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Tuesday, September 27th, 1977.
Archer didn't know what he had expected. It was his final year at Hogwarts, so he was bound to get swamped with assignments, right? Right. He had expected as much, but what he hadn't expected was to be given so many so soon. It was only the end of September and he was so over it—and if this was what it was like now, Archer didn't want to even imagine what the rest of the year would be like.
Positively horrific.
"What have you got first?" Dhruv's voice cut through Archer's thoughts and brought him back to reality, where the two boys were in the Great Hall for breakfast.
Archer groaned. "Potions," he said. His eyes flickered across to Dhruv, eyebrows raised in question. "You?"
"Erm," Dhruv paused to think about it. "Muggle Studies."
"That's not too bad, then," Archer said, and Dhruv hummed in agreement. A moment of silence followed, then Archer groaned again, his face screwing up. "Ugh, Potions."
Dhruv's eyes widened with understanding, his head bobbing up and down. "I know, right? Also, I'm so disappointed we're not in the same Potions class this year."
"Tell me about it." Archer rolled his eyes. "I don't know about your class, but mine is so shit. Actually, they're all really bloody good at it, which is why the class is so shit, but..."
Dhruv chuckled.
Standing up from their seats at the Ravenclaw table, they watched their dirty plates disappear into thin air before walking out of the hall. Unfortunately, this was the point when the two would have to separate as their classes were in entirely different sections of the castle.
