Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝ The hopeless don't revolt, because revolution is an act of hope. ❞ — Peter Kropotkin
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
After my morning classes, I walk up to the Gryffindor Tower to grab a bottle of Wolfsbane Potion. There was beef on the lunch menu, and when I found myself craving it more than usual—especially the medium-rare cooked kind—I realized it was a full moon night.
To my horror, there's only a few drops of potion left. I gulp it down. I've got to stop by professor Rasp's dungeon tonight after O.W.L. tutoring to grab another doze.
A glance at the calendar on the wall makes me realize we're already two days into March. Anxiety crawls at my skin. There's nobody around. Still, out of instinct, I find the need to push it down. O.W.L. examinations are coming up in less than three months but they've been the least of my worries as of lately.
At the beginning of the year, I applied to tutor Herbology as per Professor Umphassen's request, and Charms, which I've always been a step ahead in, being president of the Dueling Club. But with everything going on, it has been harder and harder to focus on schoolwork.
It shouldn't be. I can't afford to start slacking off too. Henry's threat that I'll lose my Prefect status if I don't get it together looms over my head enough as is. I can't give him one more reason to be disappointed.
Professors Rasp and Rollick have been treating me differently ever since the scandal. I wouldn't mind Rollick half as much—though he's never been my favorite—if he didn't try to knock off house points at any given opportunity, while undeservedly awarding them to the Hufflepuffs at the completion of even the most basic tasks.
Even professor Umphassen, who never held back her praises, who displayed her favoritism toward me in every lesson has been more distant lately. I can't stand a minute of it. I'm slowly but surely losing everybody's admiration, respect and trust. Everything that I used to have at the palm of my hand is slipping right between my fingers and I don't know how to stop it.
Get it together, Sibi.
I put the empty bottle back in the drawer. Approach the mirror. Even though I applied foundation this morning, the effects of the approaching full moon are evident on my skin, which has taken a sickly pale hue. I grab my makeup brushes and contour kit. Dab some bronzer on my cheekbones, on my temples, down the bridge of my nose. It's enough to add color to my face, but because I'm feeling myself and I already have the makeup kit in hand, I add some shimmering highlighter beneath my eyes and on the tip of my nose. My lipstick has faded, so I reapply that too.
