 Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?
After her abrupt departure from Hogwarts following winter break, Phoebe had insisted that she could NEVER go back to Hogwarts, that she WOULD never go back to Hogwarts, not ever again. But... despite all the great things about being homeschooled, Phoebe was lonely, and she worried that she was missing out. So now she was back, even though Hogwarts had been the subject of many a cry to a trusted professor as she declared that she'd never belonged anywhere less. Surprisingly, she wasn't feeling awful about it. Things had changed a bit- no, Phoebe had. She didn't look happier exactly, but she was less worried, less anxious, less apologetic. She was as quiet as ever, but her quiet had a gravity and a sense of self. She was okay.
Phoebe took her rightful seat across from Sloane and Ary and offered them both a brief smile. "Surprise surprise." For Ary, mostly. "I forgot about how itchy robes can be," she grumbled, not actually all that mad. "I miss my sweaters, but it's good to be bad anyway." She turned, looking towards the Hufflepuff table to wave at Nyle and show him that she'd kept her word about returning. |