Oh, how her whole body ached. For the first week, every morning after her detentions, her lack of sleep would truly take its toll on Cecilia. Despite this, she had manage to work herself into a bit of a haphazard schedule. She always awoke late as usual, never the morning person, to Sam's shouts up the stairs to wake the girls. He couldn't come up due to the rules. However, he was the only one out of the Slytherin bunch that could apparently roll out of bed at a decent time.
"We get it, Samuel, now shut up!" Dominique would often yell at the top of her lungs.
With that, Cecilia could finally rise and begin her day. As she passed her roommates, murmurs of hellos were exchanged between yawns. Cecilia would make her way over to the window, thrusting open the curtains to let some sunlight peek through. The dungeon location of the dormitory allowed for limited sunshine, but sunshine nonetheless. Even Slytherins categorized by their ruthlessness and ambition did enjoy the sun sometimes.
England was known for its cold, misty mornings, which should have revitalized Cecilia's tired bones at least a little bit as she walked briskly through the same courtyard every morning, having just inhabited it the night prior. Silently, she would shuffle along with her chatty friends to breakfast, too tired to make much noise at all. Throughout every breakfast meal, she would be miserable. She would itch at her dark eyes, craving the absolute pleasure in which it would be to close them. Regardless to say, she would be extremely disappointed when her usual huge cup of coffee didn't give her the caffeine boost she needed.
After breakfast on Monday in particular came her first class- Transfiguration. She didn't fare too well in there that day either, compared to her always dreary breakfast. Her friends were absolutely shocked; Cecilia was usually an avid student eager and ready to learn. On that day, Professor Michael Corner, who taught transfiguration and was also the Ravenclaw head of house, was having them practice turning inanimate objects into mice. He kept shaking his head at Cecilia in dismay.
Halfway through the lesson, a familiar face of the staff entered the classroom, wanting to talk to Professor Corner about a student issue. It was Professor Slughorn, the long holder of the potions teacher job and Slytherin's own head of house, and he stopped his conversation with Professor Corner right in its tracks when he saw the state Cecilia was in.
It wasn't hard to see that the old wizard held favorites in his pupils, and it was even clearer to see that Cecilia was one of them. It probably was her pureblood status that earned her that, but she liked to hope not. Cecilia liked to believe that his concern for her wellbeing was out of kindness. Professor Slughorn was so perturbed, in fact, that he even pulled out a personal green rectangular potion from his coat pocket for her.
"Miss Donahue, do you know what this is?" He asked.
"Um, sir, may I ask what it contains?"
"It has 6 sprigs of dried Billywig stings, 2 sprigs of Wolfsbane, and 6 snake fangs." Professor Slughorn smiled, expecting her to get it. He even added, "It's a beginning concoction, does second year ring any bells?" Despite the hints, Cecilia was rather rubbish at potions, and second year was a long time ago, so she looked at Dom for help. Dominique shrugged.
"I'm not sure, sir."
Professor Slughorn sighed. "It's an awakening potion, also known as Wide-Eye Potion."
"Oops, must've slipped my mind." smiled Cecilia weakly and apologetically.
Slughorn drew his lips together tightly. "Ah, well, you're tired. Take this, this will fix it. Only a drop, that stuff's powerful."
Cecilia smiled for real this time, grateful as she took the vial from him. "Thank you, Professor."
"Of course, anything for my pupils." The old man grinned heartily, tipping his cap as he left. "Goodbye to you too, Weatherby."
Dominique groaned. "Every. Time."

*********

Divination class was one of Cecilia's favorites. Her first class of the year was in the middle of the week, Wednesday, and it was her last class of the day. It was quite lonely climbing the tall tower by herself, as none of her friends had taken it. Emily was preoccupied with other classes, Samuel was just poor at the class itself, and Dominique thought the whole thing was rather bullshit. But Cecilia enjoyed it.
She wasn't the most talented seer by any means- that title went to the two blonde twins in her class. Lysander and Lorcan Scamander were so advanced in the art of prophecy that they were put in an advanced program, allowing the two third years to be in a seventh year class for some godforsaken reason. They breezed through curriculum and books, reading tea leaves and telling omens at ease. Along with everyone else in the class, Cecilia was a little jealous. She still sometimes had problems telling apart a sun from a butterfly in the bottom of her mug.
She was pretty quiet in that class, being the lone Slytherin and left without friends to talk to. The twins were outcasts as well, so they shared a table. Not many people liked their positive, uncensored, bubbly personalities anyway. They weren't mean ever, just sometimes their outgoing natures were received as obnoxious. However, the two were always kind, good-natured, and spiritual, which was some behavior Cecilia could definitely get behind. Cecilia knew it wasn't out of a place of arrogance or conceit. It was probably just a consequence of their upbringing. After all, the famous war hero Luna Lovegood was their mother.
Today in Divination, they were reading tea leaves yet again.
"Oi, Lorcan, best watch out for any old blokes, they might give you an illness this week. You've got a grasshopper in your cup."
"So like, I should avoid the majority of my professors?" scowled Lysander. Suddenly, a look of dread washed over his pale face. "Ah, shit! I have history of magic tomorrow! Professor Binns is the oldest guy in the bloody castle! Wait, can you get a disease from a ghost?"
Lorcan and Cecilia were laughing. Cecilia shook her head. "No, I don't think you can."
"Good!" Lysander grinned. "Otherwise, I'd surely be dead!"
"Yeah, yeah, you still need to keep an eye out for likes of McGonagall and Slughorn. They're reaching their years." Lorcan quipped.
"Guess I'll have to skip their classes then."
"Ah, yeah, because that's the right solution." Cecilia smiled. She peered into Lorcan's cup, seeing a jumble of leaves faintly resembling a symbol that she could not recall the omen for off the top of her head. She turned the page in her book before answering. "Alright, so your cup's got ivy in it, which means patience and understanding."
"I have to be patient and understanding if I'm ever to put up with him for the rest of my life." Lorcan jutted a thumb at his twin, who laughed gleefully. "That's definitely accurate. Good Seeing, Celia, now we know tasseomancy must be true!" He looked to his twin for a response, but they found Lysander deep in his work.
"That's odd.." remarked Lysander thoughtfully with a raise of a brow. He was staring into a teacup, squinting and straining his vision.
"What's odd? What do you see?"
"Celia, you've got a flower in yours." He stated plainly.
"What's a flower mean again?" Cecilia questioned. She was bewildered, no flower had ever shown up in her cup before. Was it a bad thing? She couldn't remember.
"It means different things based on what type of flower it is, but yours is hard to tell." Lysander frowned, peering into the teacup, and flipping through pages of Unfogging the Future like mad.
"I mean, generally a flower is good." Lorcan offered.
"Yeah, unless it's wilting." Lysander interjected, finally landing a page in his textbook. "But I can't really make out much of anything, so I'm not making conclusions."
"So it might be really good, but it may also be horrible?" Cecilia sighed. "That's comforting."
The twins smiled weakly at her, trying to make her feel better.
Suddenly, the centaur teacher other than Trelawney, Professor Firenze, trotted up behind them. "Is there a problem?" He asked.
"No, just an unclear tea leaf reading."
"Ah, whose cup is it?"
"Cecilia's."
"Well," Firenze spoke with much carefully calculated knowledge, a voice rich with age and wisdom. He crossed his arms to his human chest. "Unclear readings can mean many things in themselves."
Cecilia listened adamantly with bated breath, her heartbeat thumping out her chest. Dominique would have laughed her ass off to see Cecilia taking tea leaves so seriously.
"Usually," continued Firenze, "it means that for once, the tea leaves haven't already decided your fate for you. It means, dear child, that the decision of your future is yours to make. It will come in time. You just have to be prepared for what lies ahead."

*********

And then at night after dinner, instead of going back to the common room, Cecilia would bid her fellow Slytherins goodbye and report for detention.
Detentions, Cecilia had learned, were just as awful, uneventful and boring, as she had imagined. That's what she expected walking into her fifth one on Friday night, but little did Cecilia know that it would be anything but.
James was usually already there practicing charms when she walked into the courtyard. He flicked his wand accordingly, mumbling the incantations under his breath. When he heard her approaching footsteps, he looked up and instantly got a cocky smirk on his lips.
"Hey," He said.
"Hey," said Cecilia back monotonously, sounding exhausted from the day.
"Yikes, you sound like shit."
"Gee. Thanks."
"Didn't get much sleep?"
"How'd you guess?" yawned Cecilia, setting her satchel down. "Where's Filch?"
"Already left. Said he'd come back later. Like always, he's following that dumb claim that some Gryffindors are causing trouble."
"Is he so wrong for thinking so?"
James gave her a pointed look.
"Kidding, I'm kidding." Cecilia laughed hastily.
And so they worked hard through the night, occasionally sharing words or quips with one another. It was no wonder they were so starved for sleep and energy. Filch checked up on them once or twice, just to make sure Cecilia was actually there to serve out day two of her punishment. Mrs. Norris was the real overseer. Cecilia swore that cat was magical or something, always hissing when they happened to slack off, able to sense things a normal cat shouldn't. Eventually, however, there was a point late into the night where the feline finally left them (probably to find her stingy squib owner).
James let out a huge sigh and flopped down onto the ground, exhausted. The moon was high in the sky, peeking behind dark clouds looming overhead. "I'm seriously not going to even be able to operate tomorrow," James sighed. He raked a hand through his disheveled dark curls. "I have a potions paper that's kicking my ass."
"How long do they have us stay out?" wondered Cecilia as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear absentmindedly. She was staring at the stars, reflecting on Divination class earlier, when suddenly, a frigid jolt was sent throughout Cecilia's entire body, making her freeze right in her tracks. An awful feeling of dread overcame her. Then the horrible notion crept into her skull. She felt as if someone was watching them. Her eyes wildly searched the courtyard, desperate for an answer. But there was none.
"Depends from detention to detention." James shrugged as he continued his chattering, blissfully unaware of the tangible change in atmosphere. "Shouldn't be too much longer though. Man, my legs hurt from Quidditch this summer." He stretched his legs out from him, feeling the strained muscle. Cecilia was half paying attention, craning her neck as she looked around the courtyard in alarm, looking like a startled bird. "I know you don't play, but have you ever tried? I bet you'd make a good beater." James smiled and laughed to himself softly, closing his eyes. "You aren't big enough for it, God knows, but you surely have the aggression. If only you weren't so goddamn short-"
And then Cecilia saw it.
"J-James!"
"What?" His eyes snapped open, and when he saw the look on Cecilia's face, his brow furrowed in confusion. He had never seen her this way, her disposition so vulnerable and well, scared. Her voice trembled, eyes glazed over in fear. "What's the matter?" James asked. "Scared Filch'll forget about us and keep us out all night?"
"N-no! Turn around!" She wagged her finger desperately at the dark space behind him. "That ghost, it... it's trying to take your picture!"
"Huh?" James turned. His eyes instantly went wide with shock at the terrifying spectre behind him, looming over his shoulder.
The figure was transparent and hovering with shoulders slumped, resembling that of a young boy, barely even eighteen. His hair was a blond mop upon his head, dirty and unkept. Cecilia had only seen the friendly ghosts of Hogwarts before- the bloody Baron, Nearly Headless Nick, the Grey Lady- but this, this was different. Cecilia found it hard to even look at the boy. He was so.. revolting. His small, skinny body, starved for nutrients, was covered in blood, caked with it in fact, and it was dressed in old and tattered Gryffindor robes. One sleeve was torn and sagging, the fabric soaked and ripped to show his forearm wound, cut haphazardly and messily, the bone sticking out of rotten flesh. The other arm was unscathed for the most part, and in his clutches, he held an old-fashioned camera. It was pressed against his face, hiding it from view. He grasped the button tightly between thin white fingers, present on the button, ever ready for a close-up.
As Cecilia looked at him, transfixed by his presence, he turned and lowered his camera. Her breath hitched. His eyes were a pale grey and as empty as the nothingness from which he came from. The creature's gaze glued Cecilia to her spot. She wanted to move away, but her feet had turned to lead. Cecilia watched in horror and trepidation as the spirit floated entrancingly to face James. James was frozen as well; its gaze met his. Its mouth fell, appearing captivated. It tried to reach out to cup James' visage, to tip his chin up, but the ghost's hand just merely swatted the air, unable to have the human sensation of physical touch.
"Are you.. Harry Potter?"
James' face contorted in a horrid grimace. "No," He said, sounding a bit perturbed.
"Are you sure?" The ghost's bottom lip quivered, resembling a toddler pushed past its endurance. "I-I just thought, you look so similar to him, someone I once knew."
James didn't back down. Cecilia was amazed. He stared the boy hard in the face, unwavering. "I'm Harry Potter's son, James."
The spirit looked both hurt and confused at the same time. "What?" His howling voice cracked. "I'm sorry, James, I didn't know he had a son."
"It's alright," James whispered softly with lips slightly pursed. "What's your name?"
"Colin Creevey," The ghost murmured in return, barely a whisper as well. The two young wizardry students did not react, for that name had no meaning to them.
"And how do you know my dad?" James asked cautiously, finally backing away. He grasped Cecilia and gently guided her behind him, seeing that she still was a bit shaken by the ghostly presence.
"We were once good friends, before the war." continued Colin. "I haven't seen him in a very long time.."
"The war?" echoed Cecilia, finally mustering enough courage to speak. "Did you fight in the war?"
The spectre's attention turned to Cecilia. "Yes, I did. I fought for the great Dumbledore's Army, alongside the famous Harry Potter. And I won. We all won, together. I just- just haven't really seen anybody since." His big grey lifeless eyes filled with transparent tears. "I miss my friends, but I'll keep searching. It's been so long, but I know they would never abandon me."
Colin's voice was hollow and flat, as if he was subconsciously aware of the lie he was telling, yet also wasn't. He spoke like he was trying to convince himself of positivity but losing hope in the reality that didn't even exist anymore. Cecilia exchanged a look with James, and wordlessly, they both knew. This poor young spirit wasn't even aware that he had passed.
What a miserable thing, Cecilia thought sadly to herself.
However, James still inquired further. He was almost hesitantly curious, like he really did not want to know the true answers. "You fought with my dad?"
"I not only fought with your dad," remarked Colin proudly, "I fought for him. He was the best man I've ever known, with the best cause I've ever known. I fought so dearly for his cause, bled for his cause, suffered for his cause."
James suddenly looked aside, obviously bothered at the resounding passion.
"So much in fact-" Colin mused, now quieter, and reached down to his torso. He slowly and tantalizingly moved his blood-drenched sweater aside from his stomach, to reveal a gaping hole. Intestines oozed out, hanging limply with nothing containing them inside.
The mere sight caused James to double over, clutching his mouth with a cupped hand, clawing at his stomach. Bile was threatening to shoot up, overflow. After a moment, he just couldn't hold it anymore and ran to a bush in the middle of the open courtyard, vomiting uncontrollably. Cecilia winced, the awful smell wafting to her nostrils, but she rushed to him in concern, rubbing his back.
"O-Oh, I'm sorry," Colin said timidly, hovering over. He put his hands together worriedly, dropping his sweater so it covered his wound yet again. "I-I didn't mean to frighten you or make you sick."
Neither Cecilia nor James responded. Colin frowned, seeing the look of terror on Cecilia's face as he approached. He stopped in his tracks.
"Maybe it's best if you leave, please, Colin." Cecilia managed to say wistfully, feeling awful, but needing to look out for both of their wellbeings.
"As you wish," Colin bowed his head in sorrow. "But before I go, may I take a picture of you two?"
James' head finally rose and saw Cecilia looking at him for an answer to whether or not the request was okay. James thought for a moment and then replied, "Yes, that'd be alright."
The ghost positioned them together like marionettes, so that James stood shoulder to shoulder with Cecilia and his arm was draped around her. Both were visibly uncomfortable, not with the pose, but by the blank stare of the photographer. Colin retreated himself a considerable distance away and held the camera to his eye. He angled the shot, thinking carefully about his choices. There was dead silence in the dark castle courtyard as he completed the morbid act.
"Say.. Cheese!"
Cecilia felt James twitch around her. All of a sudden, both students regretted agreeing to this. They waited a long time for their photographer, all the while with teeth bared into forced smiles. Even their pearly whites could not hide the deadness in their eyes.
Finally, Colin's bony white finger pressed down on the button, making a rather soft and anticlimactic noise. It did not click or flash. The only sound emitted was the poof of dust forced with a whoosh out of the dated device. Cecilia peered over and it was then that she noticed that the lens and nearly half of the camera were completely destroyed. It was as if it had been thrown upon stone floor with hate, slammed down with intent to shatter.
However, Colin didn't seem to notice. As far as he knew, the film had taken a lovely picture of his new friends, one of whom was the famous Harry Potter's son!
"Thank you," said Colin gleefully. For the first time since meeting him, Cecilia and James saw an expression on his face that was rarely seen on ghosts- a smile. He looked forever grateful.
"Of course, Colin." Cecilia nodded. Her lips were tight, drawn shut, eyes closed. She could barely feel the ghost venture out yet again to try and touch her silky human skin. His fingertips passed through her shoulder gently, drifting in the wind. Despite this, he still kept on smiling.
"You know," He whispered thoughtfully, "You remind me of a girl I once knew. She was in my grade, dark hair, light eyes, so beautiful, just like you. Her name was Julia, Julia Wright."
Cecilia froze and grew uncomfortable. Her eyes filled up with tears. "My mother?" She asked.
Colin smiled softly, barely a flicker on his lips. Sadness seemed to wash over him. "Yes.. she was so brilliant, wasn't she?"
"She was." Cecilia's eyes shut tightly.
"Such a shame, even her brilliance couldn't save her from that wretched man. He would become her downfall."
Celia felt her eyes fill up with wetness, threatening to cascade over. She stared at the ground fixedly to stop them. She would not cry, she couldn't cry. She felt Colin's ghostly cold hand try to cup her cheek, and with that, the ghost of Colin Creevey turned and left them.
Cecilia's attention fell to James, who had been surprisingly silent through it all. She turned to look at him, but suddenly, the sky above them let out a crack, and rain began pouring buckets down upon the two. Cecilia let out a tiny shriek and ran back to the corridor, protected by a roof, sheltered from the storm. But as she gazed back, she saw James, who had remained standing where he was just as the ghost had left him. He was still in the manipulated pose for the picture. She saw James' glazed over eyes, full of emotion, looking at the space that the spectre had just inhabited.
Cecilia felt the urge to run to him, but she stood paralyzed.
"James!" She called. Her soothing voice was like music to James' ears. It snapped him out of his odd trance. He looked at her with blank eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He said, voice flat and unconvincing.
Cecilia didn't believe him, so she asked again.
"I'm fine," He insisted, louder now. He appeared different, as if he had buried the emotion and darkness in his eyes that Cecilia had seen just moments before deep down below, never to be touched again. "Seriously, Celia, I'm fine."
"Why are you standing out in the rain then? Come out from there." Cecilia called out in worry.
James ran to her, in the corridor, and slumped to the floor.
"I'm sorry, I got a little bit carried away." He explained hastily, like he didn't wish to talk about it at all. He looked to the side in shame, avoiding eye contact. However, he still felt as if he owed her an answer to his odd behavior. "I'm just started thinking, that's all."
"About what?" Celia asked softly. "Were you thinking about your dad?"
"Partly," James mumbled. "I just started thinking, he's the same age as us, you know. When he died, he died for a cause he believed in- my dad's cause. He died for my dad." He made eye contact with Cecilia, whose turn it was to look away. He knew he was making her uncomfortable, but he still continued.
"Some may say I'm crazy for saying such a thing, but it's awful thing sometimes, this legacy."
Cecilia couldn't agree more.

*********

A/N: I hate author's notes so I'm not about to take up any more time than needed. For clarification and just for the sake of the story, I switched Lorcan and Lysander's birth year from roughly any time from 2008-2014 to 2006. Not too big of a deal, I just know I'll get comments about it. For the record, my canon James Sirius was born in early 2003, and Dom and Celia were born in 2003. So that means they're basically the same age, just separated by years at school. Hope that's not too confusing! Thanks guys!
-Natalie xx