There was little life left in the castle, Cerelia observed. It was from the top of the staircase just outside of the Ravenclaw common room that she watched people shuffle wearily towards whichever class their schedules dictated their presence at. The blonde girl had not experienced much of Hogwarts since her time there but what she had seen was the determination of the health of many students. She herself felt find apart from the sniffles that were affecting her but that, she was sure, was because of the post-winter bugs that went around in Britain. She’d even gone to see the matron in the Hospital Wing and the woman had told her that there was no alarm - something that Cerelia was infinitely pleased about. She did not dare tell anyone about her fortune though. She kept her mouth firmly shut on that and tried to advise her ailing brothers as best she could in between her classes. They had been bedridden for days and no longer did it seem practical for them to stay at Hogwarts. St. Mungo’s was next for them and though it terrified her, Cerelia knew there was no place better for them. Until she could help, though, her place was at Hogwarts - in her classes, studying for her O.W.L examinations.
Cerelia picked her bag up from where she’s set it down upon emerging from the Ravenclaw common room. She placed it gently on her shoulder, mindful of it just in case the feather-light charm was to break at that moment. Cerelia then drew her robes closer around her and made her decent down from her common room for the second time that morning, this time down to the second floor where, if her directions were correct, she would find her Charms class. Hardly a soul noticed the blonde-haired Ravenclaw and that was exactly how she wanted it. Her descent was light, her footsteps barely a flutter on the steps, and once she reached the second floor she paused and inquired to one of the portraits as to the location of the classroom. The portrait, a 14th Century oil of an unnamed woman, looked far from impressed but directed Cerelia after a moment of deliberation as to whether she would in fact direct the girl. Cerelia managed a small smile for the woman and thanked her before passing through the door and heading down the corridor, pleased to find some other students were heading that way too.
Upon opening the door to her classroom, Cerelia found a mishmash of students from all years and houses, making the girl wonder as to whether she’d reached the correct room or not. She recalled at Durmstrang the classes were sorted depending on age group and she wasn’t particularly pleased with the idea of trying to study for her O.W.L’s with a group of first and second years. Had she been anywhere else the elder students would have agreed with her sentiment but this, Cerelia reminded herself, was Hogwarts - anything went at Hogwarts, anything at all. There was nothing that could be done to save her O.W.L results at this point. She was a capable student, this much she knew, but if she was going to rely solely on classes then she would not achieve. Cerelia knew that there would be a need for more than a few trips to the library over the coming months.
The girl plastered a smile across her face, her father’s voice rattling around in her head instructing her to wipe “that surly look off of her face.” Cerelia stepped forward before walking with a slight spring in her step down through the main aisle between the desks, dropping her eyes momentarily to her timetable before lifting her gaze to the face of the Professor whose youth made her momentarily doubt his experience. Then again, she assured herself, it is not as if it is Dark Arts or the Defence of. He does not really need such a practical experience. They’re only really qualifications in Charms. Any idiot can do it. Cerelia held her time table between them and looked at the Professor hesitantly.
“Are you Professor Potter, sir? That would mean that I am in the right room, yes?” Cerelia brought the schedule up to her face to read out what it said. “Charms. Second floor. Professor J. Potter.” Cerelia paused momentarily before glancing up at him again. “Do forgive me for being so forward sir but, suppose you are Professor Potter, you wouldn’t be related to Harry Potter would you?”