Simply thinking about the fact that, out of all places, the library would turn into Juah's favourite at Hogwarts was absurd. Endless rows of books filling the place, students who were studying quietly and the familiar smell that reminded him so much of his father's mansion in England, not his cozy home in Ledbury or Finland. God knows how many hours of his life the boy has spent in that massive library, locking himself away from whatever visitors his father had invited over. Juah must've known at least half of the books anyone had to offer at this point. Reading was comforting in ways many people couldn't relate to, unless they've experienced it themselves. It served not only to satisfy the thirst for knowledge, but rather to live a thousand different lives through the imagination alone when reality became unbearable or simply too boring.
The time at Hogwarts had been, more or less, uneventful recently. It had been less than a week since the new first years had arrived at the wizarding school and were sorted into their houses. Juah could still remember his own first days well and he was, yet again, deeply astonished by how fast time had passed. If one had reminded him that he was already a second year, he would've been sure he wasn't. Up to this day, he sometimes managed to get lost. Today, he had gotten lost yet again, or rather, had tried and failed. The only lost thing today was his concentration. By now, the path that came to him the most naturally brought him between the bookshelves, but the book he had opened in his lap couldn't seem to take his mind to a different galaxy. The words that would normally paint a picture of worlds and another sort of magic in his head swirled before his eyes and with a sigh, he noticed that he had been reading the same paragraph over and over again. What a waste of time. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to focus. Knowing himself, he had deliberately chosen to sit in an armchair that stood slightly more secluded from the rest, but not even that seemed to help today. Maybe it was simply too busy, or there was too much on his mind.
Not even Juah could force imagination, so he closed the book gently, keeping one finger inside as a bookmark, and simply stared at the students with an unreadable expression, watching them pluck books from the shelves and study. It was calming to know that all of those people had individual lives, minds and thoughts, things to keep them busy with, things that made them insecure and unsure. That each one of them was looking for a way to pass the time, to waste it or to make the best of it. Who knew if in the end, everything or nothing of today would matter?
