But he wouldn't be alone. Alice Prewett was feeling restless, and had found her own way into the kitchen.
A sixth year, and Gryffindor, Alice had noticed the strange boy that happened to resemble James Potter. A distant relative, perhaps? Oh well, that wasn't on her mind at the moment. Now, she was perched on a stool with a mug of hot cocoa in her hands. Perfect for a night like tonight.
The door swung open and she froze, like a kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. "..Hello?"