Eagles of a Feather
Though everyone was told the truth of what happened in the Chamber, the list of people who believe it is terribly short: Harry Potter, the Weasley family, likely most of the faculty, and, of course, Starling’s family. But, even the Golden and Silver Trios found Starling too intimidating to outwardly befriend—not to mention, she was at least two years their senior and, as such, their paths rarely crossed. The Weasley twins were of her year, but not her House, and the natural schism between the good-hearted Weasley name and the Dark Arts-obsessed Blackthorns was enough to dissuade them from spending much time in her presence.
Ginevra was actually the one to interact with Starling the most. The young Gryffindor girl felt extremely guilty for technically delivering her the cursed diary, so she extended the proverbial olive branch by snapping at anyone who tried to spread the rumor that Starling was the Heir of Slytherin.
Moreover, what happened to the two girls disturbed them both so severely that Ginny naturally found herself gravitating toward Starling for support. She needed someone to talk to, someone who understood, who could tell her that none of it was her fault, because the words felt so empty coming from Pomfrey. She was just a 12-year-old girl, infected by the most potent evil, and there was only one other person in the world who really knew how it felt, too.
Starling tried—she really, really tried to help Ginny. But, it was a case of the blind leading the blind. No, the blind and deaf leading the blind, because Starling was somehow even worse off than Ginny, mentally. She had three years on the Gryffindor, but Ginny was spared certain...methods of persuasion, given her extremely young age. However, Tom Riddle had no qualms for such a thing when it came to Starling, freshly fifteen by the time the diary came to her.
Starling tried to keep her emotional distance and spare Ginny most of those details, for the younger girl’s benefit. Pomfrey knows a slight bit more of what occurred. The only other person—or 'being', rather—who knows more is Ravenclaw’s resident ghost: the Grey Lady, or, as Starling knows her, Helena.
The ghost was currently reading from her equally transparent book, which made for a lively (pun intended) discussion in the past of 'can books also die? And, if not, then why is it a ghost with you?'. A very fun discussion. Both look back on it fondly, with no answer having been reached.
Starling sat with her feet curled up underneath her on the couch in the Ravenclaw Common Room. She rested open her Charms textbook on the arm of the couch and read in contentment, the fire cracking and warming her. Her pet tarantula lazily crawled over her skirt and rested there. They all—Starling, Helena, and Miss Arachne—sat in the comfortable silence of each other. The rest of the students were in the Dining Hall, giving Starling some much needed peace and quiet.
Other than spiders, ghosts make for better friends than people, Starling has discovered. They have patience, for years feel like minutes to the likes of them, and they are distanced enough from life and its emotions and drama to have some introspective, analytical wisdom to share. And it just so happens that Helena was tricked by the handsome and young Tom Riddle, too, though she did not spare many details to Starling. At least, not yet.
“Do you know of the room which appears and disappears on the seventh floor?” Starling eventually asked her ghostly companion.
“That would be the Room of Requirement—or the Come and Go Room, as it is known to some,” Helena answered, a not-really-living encyclopedia of all sorts of facts. “It appears when one is in great need of it.”
Starling hummed thoughtfully. “I think I might do something incredibly dangerous tomorrow.” She picked at her book as if the statement was as bland and unconcerning as a comment on the weather.
“That is not very Ravenclaw of you," Helena admonished the girl.
“It would be in the pursuit of knowledge?”
The ghost frowned, her translucent lips pulling together with a wrinkle that will never deepen. The wise, ageless spectre replied, “I rescind my previous statement and wish you luck.”
Starling smiled to herself.