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2 SEPTEMBER, 1990

THERE WAS A BOY in the bed next to Claire's.

She couldn't tell much about him, as the dark room allowed her to see only shadows and the faint silhouette of his sleeping figure against the moonlight seeping in from the enchanted window on the wall, but she knew the boy's name, identified by the trunk at the foot of the bed that she'd seen earlier that evening.

Alexander Collins.

Claire wasn't sure what intrigued her so much about him. Perhaps it was knowing that she'd found someone who was completely new to her, one that she didn't know startlingly specific details about. In truth, it fascinated her that he'd managed to slip under her radar for so long.

It was then that she decided that she was going to befriend this Alexander Collins. If she hadn't heard of him, it was likely that few others had. He might be alone, and while solitude was a place where Claire thrived, she also knew that wasn't the case for many, and Alexander deserved a friend.

But first, Claire felt herself getting restless again. Her heart began to thud slightly louder in her chest, and her fingers tapped impatiently against the mattress beneath her. She rolled out of bed as silently as she could, grabbing her wand from the nightstand before tip-toeing her way to the door. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes and glanced back at the room of her fellow fifth-years, making sure they were all still asleep before slipping out the door.

Claire rounded the stairs, climbing up the four floors to the common room. She paced the dark room a few times, her gaze flitting around to land on the now-matted cushions, unfolded blankets, and the few remaining embers burning mildly in the fireplace. It was better, as the pounding of her heart had quieted slightly, but it wasn't enough. She still felt trapped.

Her eyes glanced over to the main door. She knew she shouldn't risk slipping out again; she doubted that Charlie Weasley would be out wandering the corridors at three o'clock in the morning to come to her aid if she was caught by a professor. It was by total chance that they ran into each other earlier; odds are, it wouldn't happen again.

But it was becoming harder and harder for Claire to stay still. Her hair, which was pulled up into a throwaway bun, felt like a heavy weight tugging on the back of her neck. The pounding beat of her heart was back, and now it was thudding so loud and so hard in her chest that it hurt to breathe. Claire paced faster, back and forth across the room. She had to get out.

Get out.

Get out.

Get out.

Before she realized what she was doing, Claire made a beeline for the main door, gripping the doorknob tightly with her small hand, which she now noticed was very cold and very clammy. She had turned the knob and was creaking the door open ever so slightly when an unfamiliar voice called out behind her, slicing through the silence like a knife through thin air:

"Where are you going?"

The voice was high-pitched, though distinctly masculine, and while the question could've been posed as an accusation, the tone of the voice spoke distinctly of curiosity rather than annoyance.

Claire's hand remained glued to the doorknob; she turned her head to look behind her, staring across the dark and dimly lit room to see a boy standing at the doorway to the stairs. He must've been only a few inches taller than Claire and sported messy, dark hair and striped pyjamas. He yawned deeply before asking again where she was going.

The boy's question sunk in, and Claire slowly realized that, once again, she had no idea where she was planning to go. Her fingers slipped from the doorknob as her arm returned to lay limply at her side. Claire turned back to face the boy.

"I don't know," she answered in defeat, avoiding the boy's eyes.

He didn't say anything, instead crossing the room to sit on the sofa by the fire, fluffing up one of the matted pillows. The boy then looked up at her and patted the seat next to him. Silently, Claire obeyed, retreating from the door to take her seat next to the boy.

"My name's Alexander," the boy said as she sat down. Her eyes widened briefly; how convenient it was that he'd been the one to find her after she'd spent half the night trying to figure out who he was. Alexander extended a hand, which she shook. His hand was softer than Charlie's, but had callouses on the creases of his knuckles that gave Claire the impression that he was some sort of craftsman.

"Nice to meet you, Alexander. I'm Claire," she replied, taking a moment to absorb every feature she could about this new boy in front of her.

He was rather short and thin, his skin a taupe, beige color. His dark, round eyes glinted with a kind of curiosity Claire had only ever seen in herself and her grandfather, and his messy black hair, while quite wild from sleep, held a distinct part down the side of the top of his head, suggesting he usually used some type of product in his hair to hold it in place.

Several minutes passed in silence as Claire soaked in every ounce of detail she could about this Alexander Collins. He seemed to have noticed her stares, however, as he slowly began to close himself off from her; or at least she assumed that's what he was doing when he stuffed his hands between his knees and drew his already-narrow shoulders into himself. Claire dropped her gaze immediately to the floor and felt her face flush in embarrassment. No doubt, if it was any brighter in the Hufflepuff common room, it would be very obvious that her face was as red as Charlie Weasley's hair.

"If you're, uh...." Alexander said, his voice cracking. He coughed and tried again. "If you're checking me out, I just wanna let you know, I'm gay."

"What? Oh, no, no no no no no," Claire said quickly, looking back up at Alexander with wide eyes. She was absolutely mortified; her face was on fire now, and she was sure that even in the dimly lit room he was able to very clearly see that she had turned a deeply flushed scarlet color. "I-I wasn't checking you out, I was, um..." She trailed off, wholly uncertain of what she wanted to say.

Well, she thought, I suppose there's really no point in lying.

"I-I observe people," Claire finally admitted. Alexander's thick eyebrows shot up half the length of his forehead. "I'm a bit of a loner," she explained. "I'd rather observe others than talk to them. Because of that, I know every name and every face in this castle...except yours."

Instead of the look of judgment or discomfort that Claire had been expecting, Alexander merely nodded, smiling lightly. He removed his hands from where they were lodged between his knees and folded them together, placing them neatly in his lap, before shifting in his seat on the sofa to face Claire.

"So I interest you," he said so nonchalantly that Claire blinked several times before she realized that he, like Charlie earlier that night, wasn't disturbed at all by her odd habit of trying to learn everything she could about a person without ever saying a word to them.

Claire shrugged, feeling the heat that had swelled up in her face fade as she began to feel slightly more comfortable. "Yeah," she replied. "I mean, you've managed to slip by under my radar for five years."

Alexander let out a snort. "I've slipped by under most people's radars. It's intentional, too; I'm not really a 'people' person, either," he muttered. With that, he reached into the pocket of his pyjamas and pulled out an odd sort of trinket. It was a small, black, metal cylinder that expanded at one end, the base of which was shielded in some sort of glass.Claire vaguely recognized it, but couldn't quite remember what it was.

Noticing the curious look on her face, Alexander handed Claire the object. Holding it by the cylindrical part, she noted the object was reasonably heavy for its small size. There was also a button on the side of it. She turned the object around and peered through the glass on the end to see three small glass circles inside. She pushed the button on the cylinder, and suddenly the glass base emitted a blindingly bright yellow beam of light that struck her square in both eyes.

Claire let out a startled yelp and dropped the object, hearing it land on the floor with a thud. She couldn't see anything; giant, blurry spots danced in front of her burning eyes, obscuring her vision. Her head was throbbing as she blinked several times in attempts to clear away the spots.

"What is that thing?" She asked.

"It's a Muggle device called a 'torch,'" said Alexander, laughing as he bent down to pick it up. Blue spots still swam in front of Claire's eyes, but they were beginning to fade, along with her headache. "My mum sent it with me, said it wasn't working and asked me to take a look at it and send it home once I'd fixed it. Seems like you did the fixing for me, though."

Claire glanced down at the torch in Alexander's hand. It was a Muggle device. That's why Claire remembered it, if only slightly. She looked back up at Alexander. "Your mum's a Muggle?"

"Yeah, both my parents are," he replied casually. "My little brother isn't, though; at least, I don't think so. I reckon Aiden's one of us. What about you?"

"Well..." Claire paused. She was so used to learning about other people, it was practically a daily habit of hers, but she'd never really opened up to anyone about herself before. She knew she didn't really want to talk about it, but Alexander had asked, and he was being so polite, and Claire had decided she was going to befriend him...

"My dad left once he found out my mum and I weren't Muggles like him," said Claire, her voice low, "and Mum...well, she died a few years later. The Healers said it was some kind of cancer. So my grandparents raised me."

"Your dad was a Muggle?" Alexander asked. Claire nodded silently, and Alexander must've gotten the hint that she didn't want to talk about it further because he quickly changed the subject. "So, who are your grandparents?"

At that, Claire let a small smile creep up onto her lips. No one had ever asked her about her family before; granted, no one before Charlie Weasley had ever even shown any interest in her at all, but that would have been very different had people known who her grandparents were.

"You're not gonna believe me when I tell you," Claire said, her smile growing.

Alexander's eyes lit up, glinting in the dark room as he drew his knees to chest, resting his chin on his knees as he stared at Claire. "Ooooh, now I'm intrigued!" he said excitedly.

Claire grinned widely before answering, "Newt and Tina Scamander."

Alexander's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging. "You're kidding!" he hissed. Claire shook her head. Somehow, his jaw managed to fall even further.

"Your grandfather, he wrote our Care of Magical Creatures textbook! And your grandmother helped capture Grindelwald after he infiltrated MACUSA in 1926!"

Claire scoffed. "Someone's been paying attention in History of Magic." She immediately realized what she'd said and bit her tongue. There it was again, that joking, dismissive attitude, like she'd had out at the Black Lake with Charlie.

Human interaction was doing this to her, she realized. But...she also realized that she didn't really seem to mind it, especially after hearing Alexander let out another snort of laughter. In fact, it was rather nice, being able to get along with people and make people laugh. It was much more rewarding than merely sitting on the sidelines, that was for certain, as Claire felt her heart begin pounding in her chest once more. But this time, she wasn't anxious.

This time, she was happy.

It was then that Claire decided that having friends might not be such a bad thing after all.