There was a tightening n the pit of his stomach. It had begun earlier that day when—given his status as Head Boy—Professor Tatting had told him the news. This sensation only intensified, though, as the seventh year listened to Professor Darrow. Seeing such sadness on the jovial old man's face... Ben didn't think he'd ever heard the Deputy Head so pensive, so subdued. It was a jarring comparison, one he knew he would carry with him as he moved out into adulthood in just a day's time.
It could have been him, the Ravenclaw realized with startling clarity. How many times, in his seven years at Hogwarts, had he toyed with potions he had no business toying with? Had he experimented in his efforts to perfect this or that? He had never considered himself lucky, merely smart.
But now?
Ben didn't know.
It could have been him, the Ravenclaw realized with startling clarity. How many times, in his seven years at Hogwarts, had he toyed with potions he had no business toying with? Had he experimented in his efforts to perfect this or that? He had never considered himself lucky, merely smart.
But now?
Ben didn't know.
— graphics by mj ❤ —