 Bathes in Maple Syrup | Dancing Lobster | Moy Pomidor | Seneca's Beard | That Is So Fetch!
Seventh year. Ariel still wasn't entirely sure how that had happened.
She'd spent enough start-of-term feasts in the Great Hall that the whole affair ought to have felt routine by now: the Sorting, the applause, the mountains of food appearing across the tables. Yet there was something strangely whimsical about knowing this was the last time she'd sit through it as a student. The thought had been hovering at the back of her mind since she'd stepped off the train, and Ariel had made a determined effort not to dwell on it.
Which was perhaps why her attention had found something else to dwell on instead.
Or someone.
From her place at the table, Ariel's gaze wandered—quite casually, thank you very much—across the Hall toward the sea of green and silver. It took her approximately no time at all to locate Calliope among them.
Not that she'd been looking.
Obviously.
Hoping she caught the Slytherin's eye, she offered a smile, followed by the slightest tilt of her head. The redhead then promptly returned her attention to her own table and the ceremony before them as though she had been deeply invested in the Sorting all along.
Very subtle, Scamander.
__________________
 |