“How ya feeling?”
It takes a moment to locate who the question comes from, but rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you locate the dorm mate staring at you with wide, concerned eyes.
All memory from the cursed hall come crashing back to the forefront, making you shudder violently, letting out a tiny gasp as you wonder how much anybody else in the room knows about what happened.
“Wh… What do you mean?” Your throat is dry as you look sheepishly down, trying to process the events from the night before.
Their genuine warmth and concern doesn’t waver as they answer, “Whatever you ate must have messed you up pretty good if you don’t remember… Leaving the feast early? You were passed out when I got back, but it sounded like nausea got the better of you a couple of times throughout the night. Probably guessed right about the food poisoning.”
“Oh, uh… Yeah,” your brow furrows, stroking at your temple with one hand, the other clutched on your belly. “That’s gotta be it.”
Left the feast early and came back to the dorms because of food poisoning? That can’t be right, you argue to yourself, trying to sort out the details of what happened.
As difficult as it is for you to truly disbelieve what happened, by the time you’ve made it through breakfast and are sitting in Charms class, you’ve all but convinced yourself that everything about the portraits in the hallway aiding in what felt like a miraculously fortuitous escape, might have been nothing more than a sickness-induced stress dream.
That is until you glance out the window to find the black and white clad, ghostly figures of a bride and her groom, holding hands and floating just on the other side of the pane.
With the faintest bow of their heads, two sets of dark eyes find yours for the last time before the translucent shapes disappear.
Blinking, you smile to yourself, half relieved and half alarmed. The smile only sneaks wider as you turn forward once again to listen to the professor lecturing on, only to find a small piece of folded parchment on your desk that hadn’t been there before.
Opening it, four words are etched across as if they were cobwebs.
Old. New. Borrowed. Blue.
It’s signed on the back with the letter “V.”
Then a blue, candlesque strand of spiked speedwell foliage materializes there as well. You recognize it from the bridal bouquet.
“Veronica spicata,” you mutter quietly.
Had the ghost bride’s name been Veronica?
She seemed so dazed, sad, and confused through much of your time together, you wonder how much of her memories from life had been lost over the many years trapped. Perhaps she only truly even remembered who she was once you both got away from Peeves’ foolish games.
In reverse order, over the rest of the month you received three more gifts.
The second shows up at lunch on the 13th. A book of poetry, carried by a screech owl, inscribed by who you judge to be the sister of the groom. She had wished the pair love, lending them her favorite poems for luck.
The third comes about a week later during Defense Against the Dark Arts class, in the form of a small, square box tagged with the label “From: Dad,” and containing a freshly pressed handkerchief embroidered with the name Edmund, smelling faintly of ginger lily, vetiver, and sandalwood cologne.
Finally, on October 1st, you crawl into bed late that night to find a silver locket placed under your pillow.
Inside, there are photos on either end. You recognize the picture on the right as who you’ve dubbed to be called Veronica, and the man whose name you can only presume from the previous offering.
The other picture is significantly more worn. Although you can’t be sure, your intuition nudges that it shows the embrace of her grandparents.
You place the locket opened upon your bed stand, next to the handkerchief, book of poetry, and bushy plant that hasn’t seemed to age a day since arriving.
Every year after, for as long as you have breath in your body, you continue to hear murmurs of blessings and gratitude at the exact moment of what would have been your escape.
But this night, as lashes are fluttering closed, the last image you’re left with before falling asleep is what had been the vibrantly enamored, and full-of-life bride and groom, encased in the shape of a heart next to family.
** All the haunting beans & awards
have been submitted as listed below! **
• The Moving Staircase award:
For completing 9 tasks.
Silvana Mandeville
Dibyarup James Potter
Amy Smith
Prof. Will Lestrange
Penelope Friar
Prof. Scarlet Leslie-Lewis
Janne Halla
Uma Daurka
Ellie Vernez
Dawn Diya
Scarlet Robloutain
Alexandra Rosier
• The Haunted Hallway award:
For completing all 18 tasks.
Dibyarup James Potter
Janne Halla
Scarlet Robloutain
• The Beans sack:
Silvana Mandeville - 165
Dibyarup James Potter - 330
Amy Smith - 195
Prof. Kendra Givens - 45
Prof. Will Lestrange - 150
Kalgri Sicaria - 75
Tia Lovegood - 75
Penelope Friar - 195
Rosemary Sharpe - 75
Prof. Scarlet Leslie-Lewis - 150
Maeve Madden - 75
Holly David - 45
Janne Halla - 330
Uma Daurka - 300
Ellie Vernez - 225
Dawn Diya - 300
Scarlet Robloutain - 330
Alexandra Rosier - 165
We are also starting a new year of Sapphires (what was once also called Ravenclaw Activity Points), our inner-house points system! All beans earned over an activity here at the Roost will earn you the equivalent number of Sapphires. You can check your totals in the Sapphires Spreadsheet.
A BIG THANKS TO EVERYONE for your participation!!
Special thanks to Prof. Tarma Amelia Black for being an ongoing Beans Sponsor <3
Last, but certainly not least, a HUGE CONGRATULATIONS to our Prefects-in-Training who have *all* earned the following two awards for the work they have put in over the last two months.
• The PiT Badge award:
For completing all 12 PiT tasks
• The Bluebell Flames award:
For helping to organize/run “Portraits of a Haunted Hallway”
Adeline Morior
Anne-Marie Gagne
Aquaria Sandalwood
Katherine Laurier
Lex Green
Rose Dove
So proud of you this group! It’s been such a pleasure getting to share the experience.
Xoxo,
-Sin
Thanks to Prof. Sindor Aloyarc, everyone at PiT and all who participated in the event. 
