It was very, very easy to forget that Hogwarts was, by name and by nature, a school. When you were inside the doors of the great Scottish castle, you were in another world altogether. The shining suits of armor, the brilliant banners and tapestries on every floor, and the wandering portraits created the most magical atmosphere -- fitting for a magical institution. Adam was pretty sure that he could get lost traversing the corridors and staircases of the building, as fickle as they seemed to be. The idea had enticed him more than once over the last two years. The more days he spent exploring the old castle, or lounging on the grounds with friends, or swinging a bat around at Quidditch practice, the less he was anchored to the real world.
And then homework hit.
It was a sad smackdown back to reality, each and every time. Adam was never really without homework, but some days were certainly heavier than others, and this was certainly one of them. He had a long length of parchment in front of him that had to be filled with words by the time he entered his classroom tomorrow afternoon. And all of the words had to mean something. It could be worse, Adam reminded himself; he could be studying mathematics and language instead of Transfiguration and Potions. Muggles really had it rough without magic to reward their hard work. Then again, they didn't have to go through the trouble of learning the magic, so maybe it evened out. As he stared down at the blank paper in front of him, gripping a quill whose ink had already started to dry, Adam tried to rein back in his wandering mind. If he didn't focus, he'd never get this done.
And would that be such a terrible thing? No. Couldn't think like that. He had responsibility, and a duty to his house. Ravenclaws were supposed to be the brains of Hogwarts -- if he couldn't do well in his classes, how could he belong in his house? That damned parchment would have an essay across it before the day was over -- Adam swore it. All he had to do was keep his eyes on the desk in front of him. Not on that brightly-colored book over there; just the desk. Not on the grand windows that filtered light through the library; just the desk. Ceiling. Desk. Restricted Section. Desk. Brown hair. De-
Oh, hold on. Focus falling away, Adam turned his attention to the brown curls that had caught his attention at the next table over. He couldn't be entirely sure who the other student was from the back, as he could only see the hair over the back of her chair, but she sure looked familiar to Adam. He was pretty confident in his recognition of Rosie Parker, the nicest Hufflepuff -- well, probably the nicest person -- that Adam had ever met. It felt like he hadn't seen her in so long! Way too long, that was for sure. Of course, there was a small chance this wasn't her at all, and he was projecting onto a complete stranger. He'd give it about 80/20 odds that it was Rosie. 60/40, worst case. Anyway, with the thought of his friend at the front of his mind, it would be pointless to go back to homework now. He'd never get anything done.
Luckily, you could use parchment for more than one thing. Carefully tearing off a small portion of it, making sure he still had the required amount for his essay, Adam went to work on his new task, folding in the corners carefully. It only took him a minute and a few more hasty folds to assemble a decent paper airplane, like the ones he'd made in Scotland when he was ten. This one was much worse than those had been, since he was years out of practice, but it was at least airworthy. And, he had a trick up his sleeve this year that he hadn't had pre-Hogwarts.
Drawing his wand, he held it semi-hidden under the edge of the desk, since he didn't think he was technically supposed to be using magic in this room. Even as a third-year, he was a bit confused on the policies for in-school spellwork. As long as he wasn't doing any harm, though, he shouldn't be too harshly punished. Leaning into the risk and lifting his wand up further, he pointed the tip squarely at the center of the airplane and swished it into the air, whispering one of his earliest incantations as he came down into a flick. "Wingardium Leviosa."
Tremulously, the paper aircraft took flight, lifting off from the wooden surface of the desk and hovering in the air. It followed the movements of Adam's wand, and he took it around in a circle a few times to test its flight. When he was sure it wouldn't give out on him, he directed the airplane away from its makeshift runway and across the floor. It glided up into the air, rising as high as Adam dared take it before leveling out. He traced a few patterns before angling the nose of the plane back down, directed towards Probably-Rosie's desk this time around. When the plane had descended to a proper height, it was time for the boredom-born purpose that the paper craft was always bound to serve. Resisting the urge to give it a mock salute, Adam stowed his wand and cut the spell, leaving the plane to gravity's mercy.
It fell as he had expected it to, en route to the head of brown hair that had drawn Adam's attention in the first place. The plane plan was reasonable enough, he thought: if it hit Rosie, she'd surely laugh, especially when she realized it was him that had directed it. If it turned out not to be Rosie at all, he could apologize for the accidental crash. Or pretend he had no idea whose plane it was. That would work too.
It dawned on Adam as the plane spiraled for its target that he should probably give some warning, for the decency of the thing. It would be harder to claim ignorance if he did that, but that was a worthy trade. He cupped his hands around his grinning mouth and aimed a warning at Probably-Rosie's seat --
not quite a shout, but louder than anyone probably should be in a library. Whether or not she reacted to the call would be another matter altogether, completely out of Adam's hands.
"Brace for crash landing! Mayday! Mayday!"
