CHAPTER ONE
9:03
A boy with thick, wavy hair slept soundly, the sun starting to shine through the thick curtains.
10:24
The same boy slept on, nothing disturbing his sleep. Unbeknownst to him, an owl had landed outside on the sill. Hooting loudly, the owl realized the boy wasn't going to wake anytime soon. Hooting once more, the owl flew away. Seconds later it appeared downstairs, hooting once again.
10:26
The boy awake to his mother's screams.
"BERNE!" His mother screeched, finally waking the boy. Shaking his head slightly, as if to rid it of sleep, the boy pulled a frayed jumper over his bare chest before hurrying down the stairs.
"What mum?" The boy asked, turning the corner into the kitchen.
"I thought I told you to get rid of these wretched owls!" His mother said, her teeth clenched as she gestured to the window, before turning towards her younger child. Muttering to the small girl in German, the woman left the room.
Yawning loudly, the boy grabbed the roll of paper and shoved some indistinguishable coins in the little pouch attached to the owl. Patting the plump owl before shoving it out of the house, the boy started to flip through the paper.
"Shit." The boy muttered, dashing back up the stairs. Opening the door to his bedroom, he glanced around quickly, grabbing several books and a pair of trainers. Shoving them into a heavy, beat up trunk, the boy grabbed several sheets of thick parchment. Throwing a coat over his shoulder, the boy began to drag his trunk down the stairs.
Trains don't wait for one person.
Running through the station, the boy pushed past people, apologizing occasionally under his breath. Reaching the wall that was between platforms nine and ten, the boy walked towards the wall. Pretending to be focused on a peeling sticker on his trunk, the boy sped up.
Slipping through the viscous wall, the boy rushed to the train.
Jumping on the train just in time, the boy stowed his trunk.
Sighing, the boy turned towards the other people sitting in the compartment. They all seemed to know each other and didn't pay much attention to him. Smirking to himself, the boy pulled out a roll of parchment and started to scrawl out his name. Referencing his potions book occasionally, the boy began to write.
Shane Ewart
Prof. Slughorn
Year 6, Ravenclaw
A Recap of 5th Year Potions and My Plans for Future NEWT Years
Over the course of my fifth year…