History of Magic certainly felt different once you've lived through actual history.
War has a tendency to interrupt one's schooling, and seventh year was a sham anyhow, so they've gone back to finish out their NEWTs — and Professor Binns stands at the front of the room droning on, because apparently some things are unchanging as the tides. For Luna, her father's recently released from Azkaban, their home is still being rebuilt, and Hogwarts— still doesn't feel right. The faculty scrubbed out the blood over the summer and put the rubble back together, but the place simply doesn't feel the same anymore. The energy is off. This year is a formality.
And Luna's focus is scattershot even at the best of times, so she finds her gaze straying to the window, the rolling hills outside. She chose this, and yet it's hard to concentrate — the room has been made larger to accommodate this oversized class, seventh and now-eighth years combined, but it's still stuffy.
Her attention wanders to Harry beside her. Her foot snakes out; bumps against his ankle, a slight summoning of his attention, even as her quick fingers work on folding a piece of paper into some kind of complicated origami.
rng gave me history of magic!
War has a tendency to interrupt one's schooling, and seventh year was a sham anyhow, so they've gone back to finish out their NEWTs — and Professor Binns stands at the front of the room droning on, because apparently some things are unchanging as the tides. For Luna, her father's recently released from Azkaban, their home is still being rebuilt, and Hogwarts— still doesn't feel right. The faculty scrubbed out the blood over the summer and put the rubble back together, but the place simply doesn't feel the same anymore. The energy is off. This year is a formality.
And Luna's focus is scattershot even at the best of times, so she finds her gaze straying to the window, the rolling hills outside. She chose this, and yet it's hard to concentrate — the room has been made larger to accommodate this oversized class, seventh and now-eighth years combined, but it's still stuffy.
Her attention wanders to Harry beside her. Her foot snakes out; bumps against his ankle, a slight summoning of his attention, even as her quick fingers work on folding a piece of paper into some kind of complicated origami.