❝ talk to him, strike up a conversation like i do ❞
❝ i can't, jackie! i know nothing about quidditch ❞
❝ well here in lies the problem, dria ❞
━━━━ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒 | dria lockaby had all the booksmarts i...
booksmarts and broomsticks act ii , take a breath chapter seventeen , strange little twat
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➖ THE HOWLER ➖ september 1992
"I CAN STILL HEAR the ringing in my ears." Michael let out a groan aimed at his sister, as he massaged his temples, where he sat at the Gryffindor table on the opposite side of the table from her.
The second years had just returned from their Herbology lesson with Professor Sprout where they had been repotting Mandrakes, resulting in the majority of them leaving the greenhouses with raging headaches.
The sixth years, on the other hand, had a study period before their morning break, and had been in the Great Hall catching up on assignments among other various pieces of work.
"It'll die down in an hour or so." Dria dismissed his worry, as her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
In her grasp, she held a broken wand and a roll of Spellotape while her brother's friend anxiously looked on as she tried to fix it, wrapping the tape several times between the two pieces.
Ron's eyes were wide in concern as Michael's older sister bit her lip in concentration as she tried her best to mend the wand — that he had broken a couple of days before when he and Harry had crashed into the Whomping Willow.
"They're vile things." Michael persisted, dissatisfied with his sister's response. "Neville passed out."
"Don't blame him." Jackie chuckled in response from where she sat on Michael's right, tucking into a slice of buttered toast. "They're ugly things."
"Not from looking at them, Jackie." Dria muttered, not looking up as she spoke, her focus still stubbornly wrapt up in the task at hand. "From their screams."
