As the Second Wizarding War ended, many students decided to go back to Hogwarts to finish their studies. Anne-Leigh Conway was one of them.
While she attempts to come to terms with what's happened, she gets entangled in an effort set forth by Headmi...
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Chapter 9: History of Magic Essay
The days seemed to roll on for Anne-Leigh Conway. A week into the term, and she was truly starting to be buried underneath her classwork. Not that she minded. She enjoyed writing essays and completing assignments, perhaps more than deemed natural. Besides, having your nose down in a textbook served as a great distraction.
She had made it into a bit of a routine to go down to visit the wall outside the great hall after curfew. It was a stupid one, as she lost quite a bit of sleep creeping out of the dorms after her friends had fallen asleep. She could spend hours in front of Evan's picture, watching his smile, reliving the moment the picture was taken over and over again. Each time she pushed Nova's words from her mind, her telling Leigh to move on. How could she move on when he was right there?
Despite losing out on sleep and creeping around the castle alone at night, Leigh did have her classwork in order.
Her love for studying was shared with Hermione, who started to accompany Leigh during her hours long stays in the library. They shared the silence, and occasionally piped up to ask a question or discuss something interesting in their reading.
Occasionally Neville would show up, excited about Herbology or dreadfully preparing for potions. This particular day they all had a free period before dinner, and Neville soon stumbled into the library, red-faced and alone, and immediately received a shush from Madam Pince, the librarian.
His eyes caught sight of Leigh and Hermione, and he scurried over to his friends. "I didn't even do anything loud," he huffed in offence, dropping his bag down beside his chair and taking a seat.
Leigh smiled kindly, "A proactive shush, that's a new one."
Neville mumbled under his breath as he pulled some books out of his bag, one of them being the designated potions textbook for the year.
"How's potions going, Neville?" Hermione asked, eyes still trained on the parchment in front of her, hand still writing at godspeed. They both had a history of magic essay for the end of the day, and to say Hermione didn't play when it came to assignments was an understatement.
"It's going well, thanks," Neville responded, the corner of his lip tipping upward slightly. He leaned in closer to his two classmates across the table, voice low. "I know it's rude to speak ill of the dead but I'm really glad Snape isn't potions-master anymore. Now with Slughorn it turns out I'm not too horrible at potions after all!"
Leigh chuckled, and Hermione shook her head with a smile before returning her gaze to the essay.
"I've kind of experienced the same thing," Leigh admitted. It wasn't a secret that Snape had been thoroughly unimpressed with anyone spending any amount of time with Harry throughout the years. Or any Gryffindor for that matter.
Neville's eyebrows furrowed together and he looked at her with an amusing look. "You've never been bad at potions."
"I've never been good though," Leigh retorted, although a faint blush crept up her cheeks at the indirect compliment. "Out of all classes that one has undoubtedly been my worst one."
