Mattheo Riddle

I sat on the squishy green sofa in the front of the common room, facing the fire. I had a book in my hand but I hadn’t read a word in at least five minutes. I was too busy staring into the crackling, hot fire, considering how unnecessary it was in the heat of early September.

School had started just about a week ago, but it felt less special every year. It’s good to see your friends you haven’t spoken to in months, but my best friend was at my house all summer anyway. She walks into the common room and shuts the door behind her rather aggressively. I look up at her, amused as she heaves a sigh and staggers over to slump nest to me on the couch.

I sigh and close my book dramatically. “Something wrong?”

She rolled her head to the side to look at me and said, “I hate potions.” Her head rolled back. “No.” She sat up, “potions hate me.”