Recapping
I twirled my pencil in my fingers as I re-read my draft. It seemed good, or at least I couldn't make out any obvious mistakes. Did it sound like something an eleven year old would write? I thought so. I'd dumbed it down, kept to simple language. It was one thing to write as usual on my homework, the teachers didn't know me before, but writing to my parents was a different beast. I hoped they wouldn't notice any differences, but it was always a possibility. Tomorrow I would add something about Potions, the one subject we hadn't had yet. I still thought I was writing too much about school and not enough about myself for a letter to my parents, but it was good enough for now.
I closed my notepad. It was one I had brought with me, and the same went for the pencil I was using. Hogwarts, as seemingly backwards as the rest of the wizard world, subsisted on parchment, quills, and ink, plus the occasional charcoal stick. The sheer quantities of parchment that was used to make books and sheets for students meant they had to be supplementing their production with magic. I couldn't imagine how many animals would have to be killed just to keep up with the newspaper production alone. Using a quill was also hard to adjust to. My calligraphy had suffered, and I'd gotten used to smudges and ink splatters decorating my notes and hands. I'd actually formed a small blister from note-taking. According to Kenneth, it was just a matter of time before it became natural, but I intended to get out of here before that time ever came.
Besides those minor but annoying things, writing on parchment wasn't bad. It had a certain old, solid feel to it that I enjoyed, very different from the frivolity and flimsiness of regular paper. When I took the time to write carefully, the result was stunning. Book lover as my mother was, she'd certainly like it too. Which reminded me, I needed an owl. I could use the school's, of course, but still.
"Amy? Would you lend me your owl to send a letter to my parents?" I asked, turning in my chair.
Amy didn't answer, seeing as she was sleeping, dead to the world. She'd curled up in her own armchair to read and then dozed off while I was writing my letter. The Herbology textbook was precariously perched on her knees and her head slumped at an angle against her shoulder and the armrest. The position looked uncomfortable, but I couldn't blame her. Between the cozy armchairs and the crackling fireplace, my eyes felt heavy too.
If I'd felt like this purely because of the Common Room's coziness, I wouldn't mind it. As it was, I just felt incredibly frustrated.
I hadn't been able to sleep properly since I first set foot in this fucking castle. Whenever I started to fall asleep, the tight control I kept on my bugs started to crumble, like a puppy eager to slip its leash. And with the way space was distorted, I started to feel nauseous, a headache growing rapidly and waking me from my half-asleep state. The first night had been awful. I'd eventually become so tired that my brain had just shut down, headache or not. Nightmares straight out of a bad trip prevented me from actually resting like I needed to, but it was better than no sleep at all. The nausea I woke up with was another thing I could have gone without. I wasn't sleeping less than I had after Leviathan, but apparently eleven year old bodies needed their daily eight hours of sleep to function properly. I had bags underneath my eyes and I honestly couldn't remember half the classes I'd had. Fortunately, they'd just been going over theory so far, but I couldn't go on like this. I hadn't been able to explore the castle like I wanted, hadn't restarted my morning runs, and hadn't even had a serious talk with Amy about what I thought I'd figured out.
Amy herself wasn't much better. She took hours to fall asleep, rolling around in her bed, and during the day she'd take constant naps. She'd slept straight through History, and her eyelids had been drooping during Defense despite the smell and noise. According to Amy herself, this happened every year. She had insomnia, but given time she'd fall into a routine that would allow her to function properly, napping only at the right times. I thought there was more to it than that. She hadn't looked well when I'd met her on the train. She hadn't been looking well before all of this, but we were away from Brockton Bay, had been for a month and a half now. I didn't think it was the fame, or rather, infamy. The whispers and stares that followed her, and by extension me, didn't bother her at all. "Reminds me of when I first got my powers." She'd said. "Everybody was like this. School was really awkward, and Vicky didn't help at all. But eventually they just got used to it. It'll be the same." I hoped she was right. The attention was unwelcome and distracting. It was hard to get a moment to ourselves and discuss our situation, much less keep a low bloody profile.
It also meant I had no idea of what was up with her. How had the Nine pressed her psychologically? Would she manage to get through it? Could I deal with the possible fallout?
I reached out to shake her. She was a heavy sleeper, despite everything, and only started into awareness when I got a bit more forceful. She took in her surroundings, blinking slowly, and yawned. "Something happen?"
"No, but we might want to head up sooner than later."
She groaned, massaging her neck. "I was sleeping so well too. Now it's going to be a pain falling asleep again."
I shrugged. "Sorry."
"You're not sorry at all. Ow."
A smile found its way to my face involuntarily. She had a point there. "Anyway, I was wondering if you could let me borrow your owl tomorrow. I have a letter to send to my parents."
"Victoria? Yeah, sure. It's not like I have anything for her to send." Another thing that had caught my attention. Amy got up and stretched her arms above her head. She glanced at the Herbology book still on the armchair. "Ugh. I am not looking forward to tomorrow."
I raised an eyebrow. "Because of the professor?" Kenneth had warned us that Professor Snape was blatantly biased and likely to chew us up for minor mistakes if he was in a mood. Hence why we had tried, emphasis on the tried, to look through the Herbology book on Kenneth's recommendation. Apparently Snape liked his students to have the properties of the class materials ready on the tip of their tongues.
I was disliking the sound of this Professor more and more by the day.
She shook her head. "It's a three hour class, in the morning. I don't know how I'm going to manage to stay awake through it all."
"Well... we get the afternoon free, and after that we've got the weekend."
"Small mercies."