An Art of Balance

Chapter 5: Back Home

A/N: That one was tough. I have never written something with so much physical action before, and I had to rewrite a huge chunk of it until I finally felt happy with it. Describing sports is really tough, as it turns out 😊 Enjoy!

Word Count: ~ 3.100 (oops)

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A persistent rumour among the students was that Professor Binns had altered the clock in his classroom, back when he had been still alive. It was said, he did so to allow him to delve more minutely into every little detail of his subject he wished his students to remember.

If he hadn't known any better, Orion could have sworn it was true.

He absentmindedly ran his quill through his fingers, trying his best to take in Professor Binns's droning voice in what was their last class of the day. Orion glanced around the classroom. He estimated about half of the students were daydreaming about the upcoming weekend. The other half was fast asleep.

His gaze wandered out of the window. He could just make out the Quidditch pitch up ahead in the distance. The banners on top of the stands were swaying in a gentle breeze. He could feel it lightly brush his face from where he sat near the open window. It brought with it the pleasant warmth of a late summer afternoon.

Orion shuffled in his seat. He could feel his entire body brim with energy. The restlessness he felt had been bubbling under his skin for the last few days. He was itching to get back on his broomstick and to feel the wind on his face as he sped through the air.

This was what he had missed most during the summer break. When not at Hogwarts, he had no access to a broomstick, let alone people to fly with. Although Orion prided himself on always being grateful for what the universe had chosen to bestow on him, he sometimes he couldn't help feeling envious of people like Skye. They could practise what they loved to their heart's content, whenever or wherever they wished to.

He could feel McNully nudging him into his side. "There are only 23 minutes and 35 seconds left to his torment. 30 seconds as we speak," he whispered.

Orion tore his gaze from the silhouette of the Quidditch pitch and turned to better face him. "Excuse me?"

McNully pointed at his now worse for wear looking quill. "You have been running your hand over this quill fourteen times in the last twenty minutes. In the last 45 minutes you have been staring out of the window seven times, with an average duration of five minutes. You have not been able to play Quidditch for 76 days in a row. And to add a personal note, tapping your foot excessively like that gives off an impatient expression and is rather annoying as well."

Orion only now noticed his foot was indeed lightly tapping against the leg of table. He stopped.

"Sometimes I find your habit of observing your surroundings as meticulously as you do worrying, my friend."

McNully shrugged, a carefree grin showing on his face. "What do you expect? I'm a commentator. I observe things and I comment on them. That is what I do."

Orion had to grin at that. "It is indeed."

He propped his head onto his hand, staring at the clock mounted above Professor Binns's head. "I wouldn't call it impatient, though. More like eager. I can't wait to get out of here."

McNully had started doodling onto his parchment, drawing tiny snitches between his notes. "Call it what you want, it doesn't change what it is."

Orion contemplated his words. "I agree. The appearance of the shell cannot change the core of things."