Eden wished she could drop this class. It was worse than a boring old study hall, where she could at least read what she liked. It was worse than staying up late to look at the sky in Astronomy. It was worse than a two foot long Herbology essay. That last one was a real statement if you knew Eden, because plant care and were two of her LEAST favorite things.

Still better than the emotional-turmoil, sleepiness-inducing-boredom, no-magic-usage minefield that was History of FREAKING Magic. She'd pay 100 galleons to just read some books and take an exam at the end of the year.

It wasn't the new (or old) teacher's fault, really, it wasn't - but the fact remained that Eden was a lost cause.

"Good morning, Professor," the girl spoke as she walked past, straight to the back of the room. She took a spot a few desks away from Elder James and Creepiest Upstead (totally not planning on eavesdropping or anything, and totally not preemptively trying to get a close-by seat to any classroom interruptions, of course not) and took out the notebook she used for both History of Magic and Herbology. It was mostly filled with scribbles unrelated to either subject. She had taken the time before class to part her hair into two loose pigtails so that she could fidget-braid throughout the lesson.