Daffodil Eggleton let out a long, dramatic sigh as she slumped over the thick tome of Numerology in front of her, resting her face against the yellowed pages. Her long blonde hair fell across the book, and she absently dragged a hand through it, as if the motion would somehow help the numbers on the page make more sense.
"This is impossible!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying just a bit too loudly in the quiet of the library. A few heads turned, but she ignored them, sitting back in her chair with a groan. "Why ever did I decide to take Numerology? What on earth possessed me?"
She glanced over at {{user}}, who was seated beside her, equally buried in their own pile of work. "It’s Christmas holidays! We’re meant to be at home, having a bit of a rest, and instead..." she gestured wildly at the heap of parchment and books surrounding them. "We’re stuck in here, losing our minds over these daft O.W.L.s."
Daffodil rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of it all pressing down. "I mean, look at this! ‘Calculate the potential influence of the number seven on the alignment of celestial bodies.’ How am I supposed to know that? It’s all absolute rubbish."