"Good Morning!" Cleo yawned, she didn't even bother to check to see if Rose was awake yet, she knew she would be.
"Morning," Rose muttered, as Cleo could hear the smooth, almost ripping sound of an old book. It reminded her of home, of her mother reading her many old tales, about hopping pots and brothers and hearts and so many more intriguing stories that used to simply captivate her. Her mother had often told her how her eyes used to grow wide, how they used to sparkle even more and how her deep purple eyes used to shine different shades and often change colour completely, purely out of excitement. But, knowing Rose, this would not be the same type of book. It would be a textbook; for at the ripe old age of 11, Rose was too mature to be reading 'silly children's stories'. Cleo could only hope that some of her carefree attitude would rub off onto her and allow her to enjoy life in the moment, instead of in a history book.
As Cleo sat up, she could see Rose was reading an old edition of A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot; she was already around one hundred pages in.
"Why's yours so yellowed? Mine's a crisp white colour."
"It was my mothers'" Rose explained, not looking up from the book " I wanted to have this one because it was sold before Bathilda died."
"She died?! How?" Cleo asked, appalled. She always felt bad if she heard of a loss of a life, whether that person she knew personally or not.
"She was killed by Voldemort, then her body was used by his snake, Nagini, almost like a puppet. Depressing, isn't it?" Rose sighed, slowly turning the crisp pages throughout. She often wondered how Cleo had not been considered simple by now, knowing so little about the Second Wizarding War. But then again, perhaps she was not as interested in her parent's past as she was. In fact, some people who lived through the war lost so many relatives and close friends that they have completely shut off that part of their life, them seeing this the only way to survive.
Rose's uncle had gone through a process like this. Her father had told her that he'd always had it tough and that he was still getting over the Second Wizarding War. By what she had heard, she could not blame him for collapsing (apparently this was before they were born) then trying to shut it out. Eventually he figured this wasn't the way forward; Rose could only assume not everyone had came to that conclusion yet. She did pity her uncle, going through so much at such a young age. He did not give too many details over the more traumatic sections of his life, but she knew that he had suffered a lot of loss, and vowed one day to find out the truth over her family's history, whether it be "inappropriate for young girls " in her mothers eyes or not.
"Hey, daydreamer !" Cleo waved a newspaper in front of Rose's face, jolting her back into reality. "Check this out !"
"What is it?" Rose questioned, intrigued.
"That Skeeter women's at it again." Cleo jumped onto Rose's bed to hand over the paper.
Rose let out an irritable sigh, although whether it was lead on by the article or Cleo's manner is unsure.
"What's she on about this time ?" Rose joked "My uncle's now planning to lead an uprising ? Or is my aunt beating him instead?"
"No, just predictions for over the Christmas holiday:" Cleo sat up straight and imitated the bubble headed reporter. "With the Christmas holidays approaching rapidly, now is the time when most wizarding families would decide whether their children would be staying on at Hogwarts over the festive season or are returning home. One family who are also facing this decision are the Potter/Weasley clan. Will the children choose to stay on at school and avoid the drama that goes on at home, or will they board the train and face the danger?"
Rose groaned; these sort of reports had been going on for years. It started with just a few scattered here and there, then over recent months more and more articles showing Roses' family in a bad light had appeared.
"Why don't you file a complaint to the Prophet?" Cleo asked whilst shuffling through a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
"Because of Aunty Ginnys' job." Rose replied simply. Her Aunt worked as a sport reporter for the Daily Prophet, after retiring for playing for the Holyhead Harpies, an all- girl Quidditch team.
"Oh," Cleo understood over her friends' predicament, however had no other point to make on the matter. "Can I copy the Astronomy homework?" Her cheeky grin soon returned. After hearing a hummed response from Rose, who was now far too engrossed in her book to reply using words, let alone sentences. With one swift movement, Rose's neat scroll on the different constellations, written in jet black, unsmudged ink was sitting only centimetres from Cleo's crossed legs as she struggled to find a quill. Still not looking up from her book, Rose gently shook a capped ink well and a neat, grey quill in front of her roommates face. After receiving a small smile of thanks, she put her arm back to holding the spine of her colossal book.
Both girls became engrossed in what they were doing, sitting on their own bed, looking different, being polar opposites as people, yet being so close as friends, which was sure to last for a long time.