CHAPTER TWELVE ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── "Why is it always me?"
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Y/N POV
As I entered the Great Hall that evening, the floating candles overhead lit the long tables, where students were engaged in lively conversation. The familiar scent of burning wax mixed with the hint of tonight's feast filled the room with a sense of comfort. My heart lifted as I made my way to the Gryffindor table, spotting familiar faces of my friends.
"It's great to be back!" I exclaimed, sliding into a seat between Oliver Wood and Seamus Finnegan.
"It is indeed," answered Oliver, his lips forming a small smile as he turned to face me. "Will I be able to see you at one of the Quidditch matches this year?"
"Wouldn't miss it," I answered honestly.
Truthfully, the Quidditch matches were thrilling. But I'd never felt the urge to join them on a broomstick myself. Being a spectator was more than enough for me.
Beside me, Seamus was already fiddling with his wand, practicing what I hoped was a harmless spell. I edged backward just in case, remembering his unfortunate track record with explosions.
"Would you like to move somewhere else?" Oliver asks me after noticing my discomfort.
I smiled. "That might be a good idea."
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The next morning, the bright sunlight streamed through the glass panels of Greenhouse Three, casting a shining glow on the rows of plants within. Professor Sprout stood at the front of the class, her face beaming with her usual cheerfulness.
"Morning, everyone! Good morning!" she called out.
"Good morning, Professor Sprout!" we chimed back in unison.
"Welcome to Greenhouse Three, Second Years. Today, we are going to repot Mandrakes. Who here can tell me the properties of the Mandrake root?" Her eyes scanned the group expectantly.
Unsurprisingly, Hermione's hand shot into the air.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is used to return those who have been Petrified to their original state. It's also quite dangerous. The Mandrake's cry is fatal to anyone who hears it."
"Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Sprout said brightly.
"Nice one, Mione," I whispered.
From across the table, I heard a groan and turned to see Malfoy, sneering as usual. I couldn't resist sticking my tongue out at him, and he immediately mirrored the gesture.
