It had been several years since the first day we met, Wilda and I were soon starting our 6th year at Hogwarts. It was a few days away from our departure to Hogwarts, and I had my usual tea in the library. Every so often I was accompanied by Sir Salazar. He was kind enough, he brought me my tea (which was often bitter, but I was too polite to tell him), sometimes it was hard to ignore his stare. He had a habit at peering down at me while i was reading. His narrow, beady, black eyes looked down his crooked thin nose, which rested over his thick moustache and thin pale lips. His hair was thick, everywhere except his head. His eyebrows, like two furry caterpillars resting about his eyes, his moustache slicked into two points with wax, and his narrow beard, speckled with grey hairs, came to a point right above the apple of his throat. It was rather unnerving, knowing he was watching you. His appearance gave him a snake like impression, and it didn’t help that he had an inflection in his voice when he said his s’s. Often, when speaking his narrow pink tongue darted out of his lips to wet them. It was incredibly distracting and made it nearly impossible to focus when he was in the room. Never the less, he was kind and polite, so I was to him.

Those last few days went by like a blur. The excitement of being reunited with Hogwarts was enough to drive anyone mad. I could barely contain myself at the thought of that massive library, the beautiful glass windows that contained more than just the color blue, and most importantly, Wilda. I had grown quite fond of her recently, and needless to say she was my closest friend, possibly even my only true friend. Wilda, as her name suggests, was wild. She loved everything dirty and dangerous. She loved quidditch more than life itself. In my earlier years she had implored me to try my hand at the sport. All though I was fond of flying, It had taken me an unusually long time to actually learn the sport. Wilda was a Gryffindor chaser, and the team Captain, while I was the Ravenclaw seeker. We were some of the only girls on the team that year, the others belonging to Hufflepuff, none in Slytherin. We found upon arrival, that we had many of the same classes together, and I looked forward to spending as much time as possible with the red head. Over time Wilda’s red hair grew longer and wilder, and her eyes remained that fierce shade of gold they always were. She was simply the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Many of the young wizards had noticed this fact, much to my dismay. Countless enchanted love notes arrived for her at breakfast. It wouldn’t be an ordinary day if a large paper wrapped present didn’t drop down and fling my breakfast halfway down the long table. Wilda merely smiled politely at the young boys who sent her such nice gifts. She never let them proceed any further, and for that, I was grateful. Wilda was strong, intelligent, and beautiful. None of these useless trolls deserved her attention. I also had my suitors. All though they weren’t nearly as much as Wilda. There were a few of the Ravenclaw boys, who all thought of me as their lesser, and as merely a plaything. I resented them, and wouldn’t give them a second glance. There were a few boys in Hufflepuff as well,  who were kind, all though they lacked the confidence and drive to interest me. And one or two in Gryffindor, who were so absolutely pig brained I honestly had no idea how they were still alive. The only one not at my school was the Baron. He resided at my home Castle, a formality of my mother. He was 9 years my senior and suffered violent mood swings. Not particularly handsome either, unruly white powdered curls piled atop his head like that of a doll. Unnatural looking powdered cheeks, so red they looked as though they would burst. And a thick stomach, that he tried to conceal by tucking away in extra tight trousers. And he was in love with me. He told my mother he was going to marry me when I came of age. I outright refused, and rejected all advances made at me.

By now Wilda and I had settled down to eat our lunch before the afternoon classes started. From this point on the only class I had left with her was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was second to last. Once again the young men from Wilde's house called to her with flirtatious winks and charming smiles, she made no move to join them, and I smirked at the look of disappointment on their faces. Wilda turned back to me with a new expression of concern.

“How have you been sleeping?” She of course was referring to the night terrors. Ever since I was about 8, I have had terrible nightmares of a figure in black standing over my bed, chanting uninterpretable words. I had had them ever since then, and the only available cure was to have someone with me while I slept. Over the summers, this had of course been Wilda, who slept in my bed. But now that we were separated once again by school, they returned only slightly less frequent. These nights had taken their toll on my body. Thankfully they did not seem to interfere with the quidditch schedule, or my body would be too weak to perform adequately. The dark circles under my eyes had given way to my suspected nightmare, and I sighed in response.

“I just wish they would stop, or at least I knew what was causing them.” I sighed.

“Well, be thankful they aren’t nearly every night like they used to.” she smiled reassuringly and squeezed my hand affectionately. That was another thing about Wilda; She was affectionate. She often times led me by the hand, or nuzzled her head into my lap while we were reading. Not that I minded, I was more worried about whether or not she was comfortable. Sometimes if she got bored of the book she was reading, she would give up and sit behind me, pushing herself into the small space between me and the back of the couch, to braid my hair or run her fingers through it. Sometimes I hardly noticed, so absorbed in my book. Other times, I did and I couldn’t bring myself to focus, and allowed myself to relax under her fingertips. Life was peaceful. As far as I knew.

It had finally happened. The man in my dreams visited me the night before the quidditch tournament began. Ravenclaw was to play Hufflepuff in the game the next morning. I had not awoken, for I had never fallen asleep. My eyes had heavy bags under them, and my irises were red and strained. I dragged my feet down the many flights of stairs, before at last, I reached the Great Hall. I took my usual place across from Wilda, and she looked up at me with a startled cry.

“Bloody hell, Helena! You look like you’ve been hexed.”

“I know,” I sighed exhaustively, “He came to me last night.” Her eyes grew large in their sockets and her golden eyes burnt bright behind the stray strands of flame colored hair.

“Helena darling, you cannot compete today! You simply musn't!”

“i have to, If I don’t we will most definitely lose, and to Hufflepuff! there’s no way I’m going to ruin our chances just because of an over glorified boogey man.”

“Helena!” she cried in that stern demanding way, so foreign to her usual calm and warm one, ”You must take this seriously! You could get hurt.” This conversation was unusual for us. I was normally the one urging Wilda not to do something dangerous. This new perspective really made me realize what an annoying prat I was sometimes. But perhaps, this sleep deprivation has just made me moody.

My classes all blurred together that day and I was at a loss as to which was which. I most embarrassingly gave a report on Transfiguration during History of Magic. Eventually the evening came to pass and soon the match would start. Currently I sat, half asleep, and half dressed, my face glued with my own slob to the wooden locker I leaned against.

“HELENA!” cried the Team captain, Cyril Blackwater, “You’re the heart of the team! You can’t be falling asleep! Not only are you the seeker, but you’re names bloody Ravenclaw.” My eyes fluttered open and I stood drowsily beside my teammates. “Now come on Raven’s. This is the first big game, and by god if we lose this early I’ll hex you all.” we stepped out onto the pitch, and the bright sun stung my eyes. I mounted my broom slowly and before I knew it, the quaffle had been presented into play. With a late start I moved slowly to one side, staying out of the way. My strategy was often to wait for the snitch tho present it self, but it looked as though today was just not my day. Within five minutes, a bludger had found its way past my head, and I had a near fit trying to dodge it. I decided standing still was not at my advantage today, and a soared around the outer ring of the pitch. The sooner I could end the game, the sooner I could go to sleep. Suddenly, a glimpse of gold caught my attention and I zoomed toward it as fast as I could, I failed to notice, that this glimpse of gold, was only a golden crest on a Gryffindor flag. Embarrassed I turned and faced the match again. It looked as if the Hufflepuff seeker had spotted the snitch, as he was soaring high above us. I flew straight upwards, as fast as I could, and pulled up sharply, now level with Marcus Hawthorne. He seemed to be coming straight at me, but neither of us were going to back down. The snitch dropped suddenly, and was quickly plunging towards the pitch ground again. Neck and neck with Marcus, I saw the rapidly approaching field, but before I react enough to pull up, I heard a distinctive snap, and my vision went dark. The last thing I heard were thundering footsteps and sudden screams of terror as my world, soon faded to black.