[color=silver][right]𝒮𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒽𝒾𝓂𝒶 𝐸𝓋𝑒𝓁𝓎𝓃𝓃𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝓈𝑒        
[color=0076a3] · · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·[/color][/right][/color]
[center][color=0076a3] 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘[/color][/center]

[color=silver] 	As Seraphima walked through the halls of Hogwarts, memories that had been hibernating began to awaken. They all had their own magical mystery about them, some painful and some downright pleasant. Through the walk, Seraphima tried to remain transient to them. 

[indent][indent][color=gray][i]“Its the iron curtain!” A student pointed at her. He was with one of his buddies. They were both snickering, and when she made eye contact with then, they burst into snobby laughter.

	 Wasn’t that supposed to be a compliment?

	 A complete shutout against Gryffindor, who caught the Snitch but still lost the game — thanks to her ever-so spectacular keeping. So why were they laughing at her? Shouldn’t they be giving her at least some admiration?

	 Perhaps to make her confidence deflate. Insecurity could wreck anyone’s desires and aspirations. Humans were so strange, if not downright maddening. Did they not have any appreciation for the magical mind?[/i][/color][/indent][/indent]

	 They had been standing right [i]there[/i]. School boy hair, tussled for the witches, at least for the ones that were most certainly not her. One of the wizards had a tie slightly undone, violating school dress code. For some reason, that little gesture indicated some unspoken desire in witches.

	 Her eyes studied the place momentarily. They lingered as long as necessary and continued creeping along the walls. Slowly, the memories faded as the sound of fairly lively chattering began to increase in volume. 

	 Oh, look here, dear. It was the Great Hall. The grandiose scheme was marvelous as usual, although… Seraphima looked around the vast place. It seemed so naked without all the students chitter-chatter. She felt oddly tranquil about the scenario and continued her way to the one table still being occupied.

	 Her boots clicked against the floor as she walked carefully towards the voices. Currently, as far as she could tell, she was hardly the only one who had written a book (or two) amongst the crowd. Intellectual stimulation never hurt anyone, at least, physically. 

	 She made no claim to hold any accolade as an accomplishment of her own as she entered the conversation. Instead, she quietly with one of those quaint and polite smiles of assumed friendliness found her place to sit. She could not have Ben bothered to interrupt and make herself known. Although, she gladly would when the time arrived.[/color]