Prologue
She hated math. She'd always had a really hard time with it, and tonight was no exception. She sighed softly to herself and put the textbook down, glancing around her room, trying to figure out what time it was.
"One thirty. Great." Azia stumbled over to her bed, turning the lights off as she went.
It was three in the morning. Azia was still tossing and turning, counting her three thousand ninth sheep. She slowly got out of bed and made her way over to the light switch.
"Oh, crap." Azia tripped over a book. She finally got to the light switch, and looked at what book it was, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright light.
"Harry Potter? Which one is-oh. Prisoner of Azkaban." She looked at the clock. Four minutes after three. "Oh, why the heck not?"
She grabbed her flashlight and flicked the lights off again, this time using the flashlight to make sure she didn't trip over any misplaced books (she assumed that it would 'hurt like the dickens' if she stubbed her toe on the math book). She carefully crawled into her bed, and reclined against her pillow. She propped the book up and started to read, using the tiny beam of light coming from the tip of her flashlight. It's kind of like magic. She thought thickly to herself. She began to read. She was just getting to when Harry saw a Dementor for the first time when sleep overcame her; she turned the flashlight off, and got under her covers. She fell asleep, still clutching the book in her hands.
She hated math. She'd always had a really hard time with it, and tonight was no exception. She sighed softly to herself and put the textbook down, glancing around her room, trying to figure out what time it was.
"One thirty. Great." Azia stumbled over to her bed, turning the lights off as she went.
It was three in the morning. Azia was still tossing and turning, counting her three thousand ninth sheep. She slowly got out of bed and made her way over to the light switch.
"Oh, crap." Azia tripped over a book. She finally got to the light switch, and looked at what book it was, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright light.
"Harry Potter? Which one is-oh. Prisoner of Azkaban." She looked at the clock. Four minutes after three. "Oh, why the heck not?"
She grabbed her flashlight and flicked the lights off again, this time using the flashlight to make sure she didn't trip over any misplaced books (she assumed that it would 'hurt like the dickens' if she stubbed her toe on the math book). She carefully crawled into her bed, and reclined against her pillow. She propped the book up and started to read, using the tiny beam of light coming from the tip of her flashlight. It's kind of like magic. She thought thickly to herself. She began to read. She was just getting to when Harry saw a Dementor for the first time when sleep overcame her; she turned the flashlight off, and got under her covers. She fell asleep, still clutching the book in her hands.