Post by Sophie Wood on Jan 28, 2007 22:50:45 GMT -5
Sophie stared out the window from her vantage point at the library table as she worked on her assignment for Potions. She was dreadfully tired writing essays for classes that really seemed to be such that should be more of a practical nature. The fifth year Gryffindor had never seen the value in discussing the history of this potion or that charm, particularly when half the class couldn’t perform it properly anyway. Of course, when it came to Charms, her least favorite class of all, she was one of those students who fell below the mark.
Outside, a light breeze blew, shown in the slight rustle of the green tree leaves. The grass was a lighter shade of green, but still very healthy-looking. The peaceful, light blue sky, however, was what tempted her the most. A few wispy white clouds edged her view in the window, but looked far from threatening. Sophie glanced over at the clock, finding that there was still an hour left before it was time for the Gryffindor Quidditch team to practice on the pitch. She desperately wanted to be out there now, getting a bit of flying in to work her muscles before the actual practice, but she knew that if she did, she would have much less time to get her Potions essay finished.
With a sigh, she ran a hand through her brown hair, trying to force herself to concentrate on the task at hand. In her imagination, which matched her obsession with Quidditch and seemed to be in mutiny at the moment, turned the quill in her hand into her broom. Sophie was soon picturing herself flying through the crisp air, the day of the next match, preparing to execute her newest move out on the pitch. As she saw the scene unfold in her mind, she used her quill to begin sketching out her plan and direction of her movement as she soared toward the goal with the Quaffle in hand.
Outside, a light breeze blew, shown in the slight rustle of the green tree leaves. The grass was a lighter shade of green, but still very healthy-looking. The peaceful, light blue sky, however, was what tempted her the most. A few wispy white clouds edged her view in the window, but looked far from threatening. Sophie glanced over at the clock, finding that there was still an hour left before it was time for the Gryffindor Quidditch team to practice on the pitch. She desperately wanted to be out there now, getting a bit of flying in to work her muscles before the actual practice, but she knew that if she did, she would have much less time to get her Potions essay finished.
With a sigh, she ran a hand through her brown hair, trying to force herself to concentrate on the task at hand. In her imagination, which matched her obsession with Quidditch and seemed to be in mutiny at the moment, turned the quill in her hand into her broom. Sophie was soon picturing herself flying through the crisp air, the day of the next match, preparing to execute her newest move out on the pitch. As she saw the scene unfold in her mind, she used her quill to begin sketching out her plan and direction of her movement as she soared toward the goal with the Quaffle in hand.