ᝰ𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒌

Damaris walked through the corridors of Hogwarts, lost in thought after a long day of classes—days filled with new information, spells, and the experiences that were gradually transforming her into the witch she had longed to become since the end of her first year.
"Classes were great... though I would have preferred a good coffee instead of pumpkin juice," she mused, running her hand from her forehead to her hair and carefully sliding her fingers through her curls. What she detested most—aside from starting the day without coffee (something she would have to endure throughout the school year)—was messing up the curls she spent so much effort styling every morning; it put her in a foul mood, worse even than hearing a baby Mandrake scream when pulled from its pot. As she walked, she thought about her classes for the year; there were several that appealed to her and that she was eager to master, while others interested her less.
"Don't be silly; you need to focus on getting good grades" she told herself quietly, knowing that if she let her lack of interest in certain subjects get the better of her, she wouldn't put in the effort to succeed—and that wasn't what she wanted. "They're important subjects..." she convinced herself, though a part of her brain argued otherwise—a thought she promptly decided to ignore. She walked on, clearing her mind, until she stumbled upon the library and stepped inside with a natural, easy smile. She hadn't been able to visit the library before, so this was her first time seeing the vast room filled with towering shelves and stacks of neatly arranged books—a sight that sparked her curiosity and excitement, making her want to read almost all of them. She wandered past the shelves, looking for something that caught her eye; she spotted a few Herbology books she knew she would read later, as well as one about magical creatures—a subject that had fascinated her more than anything else since she first discovered the wizarding world. Magical creatures. If it were up to her, she would be in the Care of Magical Creatures class right now, but for the time being, she would have to wait until her third year. "Almost there... just one more year..." she told herself encouragingly, putting the book back in its spot so she could keep exploring. As she looked around, she climbed the stairs to the second floor; passing by a pillar, she spotted a book she knew very well—one that never bored her. "Holy shit... do they have The Odyssey here?" she whispered excitedly, gazing from behind the pillar in disbelief; she couldn't believe Hogwarts had those stories, too.
As she thought about how excited she was to re-read The Odyssey at school—since she hadn't been able to bring her own copy from her father's house in Liverpool to Hogwarts that year—she didn't notice that someone else had beaten her to it and picked up the book to read as well. When she refocused and walked over to the shelf to grab it, she saw it was gone; the excitement drained from her, and she almost thought she’d imagined it—until she spotted a boy at a nearby table holding the book and reading it. Damaris didn't recognize him as being in her year; she didn't recall seeing him in classes with the other second-years. He was tall—at least to her—with somewhat fluffy black hair and a rather pale complexion; he looked quite serious as he read, which quickly made Damaris abandon any thought of approaching him about the book he’d taken.
"How embarrassing... I can't ask for the book back; he’s free to take it... What if he’s a fourth-year? Oh no, that would be too embarrassing..." she thought, burying her face in her hands and trying to gather her thoughts. There were no other copies of The Odyssey left on the shelf, which disheartened her, as that boy had taken the only one available. "Damn it... what should I do? Should I wait? Leave?" she wondered, resting her arms on her bent knees and hugging them to her chest. She hadn't even realized when she had slid down to the floor, leaning against the bookshelf behind her and covering her legs with her uniform robe; she was wearing a skirt, and she preferred sitting comfortably over "sitting properly" as her father used to tell her to do.