Light
It amazes me, and still to this day, the tenacity with which you apply yourself to your studies. The day before an evaluation - even late into the night while I make my final rounds - I can see you still at it in the library, be it reading, writing or vigorously practicing wand motions.
However, I must admit that it is not your proudest times, when you're so greatly invested in your learnings. For one, your hair - which I find is usually delightfully frizzy - becomes a voluminous monster, acting in ways of it's own accord. Your lips, normally bearing an endearing pout-like smile, contort into shapes of frustration which I could never attribute to them. What's more, you bite at those infernal nails of yours and, when deep into the night, there are dark, heavy bags under your eyes. And let us not forget how you perspire, your forehead often beaded with sweat - for that is how intent you are.
It's not a pretty sight. You become like the Medusa, as I can't help myself but to compare.
Despite this, I always stop and stare. It is that one moment - the instant where you look up from your books or what-ever it may be that you were working on just then - and that there is that light in your eyes. It is this radiant glow of contentment at one's success and it captivates me fully, makes me overlook all those other boorish qualities about you at the time and, instead, wish that I could participate with you in this enlightening instant.
