I stare down at my tattered robe feeling its striking green
cling to my gaze longfully. There was once a point in time when this robe was considered an honor to wear. The very body it clung to was granted the ultimate respect for merely being in it...
Before we get started, I would like to formally announce that my book is officially up for pre order on my website (link in bio) This has been a long time coming, and I want to thank each and every one of you that has supported me. Love you always, and of course, happy reading :)
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Eden
Anxiously I tap my foot feeling Thoran's watchful gaze pass over me each time I make the slightest adjustment in my rigid position leaned against the wall. Professor Fig said he would only take a moment to speak to the headmaster about our less-than-pleasant arrival this morning to Hogwarts. I will be utterly in awe if they manage to find any of our things after how badly our carriage was wrecked.
"You know I read somewhere that people who tap their foot like that are nine times more likely to become serial killers," Thoran says, playfully nudging my foot with his own massive one. His curly brown hair bounces with the sudden movement.
My face immediately pulls into a scowl. Thoran's green eyes land gracefully on my own as satisfaction engulfs his face.
"I'm pretty sure that is the most outlandish thing I've heard you say in a while," I say, pulling my body back into a standing position. I try my best to meet my brother's massive height.
"Well, it got you to stop that insufferable tapping." He says with a smile. He pulls his bag closer to his body. It's the one item he managed to keep after Professor Fig used an apparition spell to get us away from that mess.
We stand out like sore thumbs the longer we stand here. It was only moments ago Professor Fig decided to leave us standing outside the headmaster's office with no idea where we were. Students pass by gawking. Their eyes linger on our tattered, ash-ridden clothing. Quite a downgrade in contrast to the elegant house robes. One hell of an impression we are making on our new peers.
"You know I'm starting to think that Ravenclaws have a stick up their ass," Thoran says. His back is now fully pressed against the cool marble of the wall next to the headmaster's door.
"I'm sure you'll fit right in," I say smiling. his eyes waver over my own before shoving me slightly.
I want to address what happened before we got here. The dragon, Professor Fig's comment, all of it. Sadly I feel as if Thoran's ideas of what had happened won't be any more comforting than my own. Even Fig looked half scared to death after the apparition. It's not every day you get violently attacked for absolutely no reason.
Three small clicks and the door finally swings open. Its hinges creak to life. Professor Fig stands tall. His hands are clasped as he finishes up the tail end of his conversation with the headmaster. Phineas Black is the man's name. As far as I can tell he has little to no respect for his colleagues and would be the first one on any of these students' lists to be practiced on for a little bit of magic homework. Mr.Black's eyes waver over to Thoran and mines perplexed gazes. Visible disgust seems to singe his face at our dirtied clothes.
