Kate Levenster was a bit of a gossipy little witch. Shortly after starting school, she had earned the honorable nickname of "Rita Skeeter II."
At first, Kate was somewhat pleased by the title, but she soon realized that, given the senior reporter's notorious reputation, it was undoubtedly a derogatory term. Only true Ravenclaws could have come up with such a moniker—they always enjoyed crafting seemingly complimentary titles whose deeper, more cutting meanings only the intelligent could grasp.
She had earned this reputation because of the "Crying Boy Rocky" incident.
Rocky, a cynical young wizard in Hufflepuff, loved teasing cute little witches simply to draw attention to himself. Penelope had been one of his targets. Kate was initially a bit disappointed that she hadn't been singled out herself, but after looking at her own height and baby face, everything became crystal clear.
To defend Penelope, Kate relied on her innate talent for espionage, snapped a photo of Rocky's deeply embarrassing, tarnished underwear, and circulated it widely before cleverly skating away clear of any blame. When Rocky discovered the betrayal, he wept openly in the Great Hall, earning him the permanent title of "The Crying Boy." Unfortunately for Kate, some sharp-eyed Ravenclaws figured out her hand in it, and thus "Rita Skeeter II" began circulating within her house on a small scale.
Lately, however, Kate had discovered an even stranger mystery.
Her roommate, Penelope, a half-blood witch, received letters every single day. Each time a letter arrived, Penelope would wear a peculiar, dreamy smile, write a reply, and then store the correspondence inside a ferocious-toothed box that would bite at anyone foolish enough to touch it except for its owner. Furthermore, Kate noticed that the frequency of Penelope's letter-writing had escalated from once a day to twice a day.
With Halloween approaching, Kate observed a sudden shift in Penelope's daily routine. Instead of heading straight to the library during her free time, Penelope would sneak up to the fourth floor, vanish into thin air, and remain completely unaccounted for all afternoon.
As a deeply responsible young witch, Kate worried that Penelope might have fallen under the influence of some strange dark curse—perhaps she had read a cursed text like The Wizard's Sonnets, a book rumored to force anyone who opened it to speak exclusively in limericks for the rest of their lives, or stumbled across an ancient cursed tome like the one owned by an old wizard in Bath that glued your face to the pages forever. Kate feared Penelope might have read something that drove her to frantic, obsessive letter-writing or caused her to mysteriously disappear.
"I am simply worried about her wellbeing," Kate told herself via aggressive self-hypnosis. "There is absolutely no other reason."
It was Halloween morning, November 1st. There was only a single Potions class scheduled for the morning, shared jointly with Hufflepuff. Kate was deeply grateful she wasn't in Gryffindor; sharing a class with Hufflepuff meant Professor Snape's blistering fury was primarily directed at them, sparing Ravenclaw save for a few barbed remarks. Furthermore, the diligent Ravenclaw students had noticed that Snape's venomous critiques often contained practical instructions far more concise and useful than the textbook itself.
Most students had already donned their Halloween costumes, though the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff freshmen hadn't changed yet, daring not wear their outfits during lessons. The moment class dismissed, everyone stampeded back to their common rooms and dormitories to gear up.
Kate dressed as a werewolf, while Penelope opted for a classic, highly popular choice: a vampire, complete with a half-mask.
With no further classes for the day, Kate spotted Penelope heading straight for the abandoned corridor on the fourth floor once again. Kate's werewolf disguise was so convincing that even Penelope failed to recognize her, especially since Kate hadn't revealed her costume choice beforehand. Intent on uncovering the truth without blowing her cover, Kate bravely trailed behind her.
This time, Kate came prepared. She had placed a large spare packing crate inside the abandoned classroom ahead of time, slipping inside it just before Penelope arrived so she could observe how her roommate vanished. The box had been sitting in the room for days, and Penelope, assuming it was just abandoned junk, paid it no mind.
From her hiding spot, Kate watched as Penelope walked up to the one-eyed witch statue, drew her wand, and whispered, "Finite Incantatem," after which the girl dropped out of sight.
Waiting a moment to ensure the coast was clear, Kate crept out of her box, approached the statue, drew her own wand, touched the stone, and whispered, "Finite Incantatem."
The witch's stone hump immediately split open, revealing an opening just wide enough for a slender person to squeeze through. Kate cast a frantic glance up and down the corridor, took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves, thrust her head forward, and slid inside.
The interior proved to be as slick as a cobbled slide. Suppressing the urge to shriek, Kate slid down a long distance before landing squarely on the cold, damp earth below.
Scrambling to her feet, she peered around into the pitch-black darkness.
Thankful for the few simple spells she had already managed to master, Kate raised her wand and murmured, "Lumos!" The light revealed a cramped, low-ceilinged passageway. Examining her clothes, she noticed there wasn't a speck of dust on them—evidently, some sort of protective magic lined the entry chute.
The corridor wound and twisted like a warren of rabbit burrows. Kate hurried along, occasionally stumbling over the uneven floor while keeping her wand thrust out in front of her like a beacon.
After roughly an hour of travel, the passageway began an upward incline. Kate wanted to quit multiple times, but the thought—I've already come this far—pushed her forward, and she quickened her breathless pace.
Ten minutes later, she reached the base of a crumbling stone staircase that stretched endlessly upward into darkness.
Taking care to step lightly so Penelope wouldn't hear her from ahead, Kate began the grueling climb.
One hundred steps, two hundred steps... she counted to stave off the crushing boredom, before finally giving up entirely. She climbed and climbed, her eyes locked on her own shuffling feet, until—thud!—she slammed straight into something hard.
Did I climb too fast? But Penelope's hips aren't nearly that firm, Kate thought in a panic.
Realizing with a blush that her overactive imagination had gotten the better of her, Kate recognized the obstacle as a wooden trapdoor overhead. Rubbing her bruised forehead, she stood frozen and listened.
Hearing no sound from above, she slowly pushed open the hidden hatch and cautiously peeked out.
She found herself in a cellar surrounded by wooden chairs and stacked packing crates.
Stepping out through the secret door, Kate gently lowered it back into place; it blended seamlessly into the dusty floorboards, rendering it completely invisible to anyone passing by.
Kate crept toward the wooden staircase leading upward, where the muffled sounds of ringing bells, opening doors, and chattering voices finally reached her ears.
Unsure of what to do next, she crept up the stairs.
Reaching the door at the top, Kate slipped out and found herself standing directly behind a shop counter. Ducking low, she scuttled to the side and straightened up.
Phew... I am so exhausted.