#stormflyings

MY LOVE

❝ are you sure you want to bet that much? i mean-- you have a performance tonight. ❞

[ there’s this one cover of bells of notre dame done by a girl who takes the whole thing up an octave. including the last note. :’) ]

      It was difficult finding a place to study nowadays. Hardly anyone kept quiet in the library anymore, in the commons nobody bothered to keep their voices down, and the courtyard was even more of a hopeless cause. It wasn't that he minded the students -- if anything, he had the opposite problem. Quasimodo would talk to them, enjoying their company, and before he knew it, the daylight would be gone. As much as he enjoyed these conversations, O.W.L.S. were getting closer each day, and he knew he had to find a place to focus, devoid of any potential distractions.

      So he made the hike up to the bleachers in the quidditch field. He could spot some team members practicing, red and gold dots in the distance, but for the most part, the place was quiet enough. It was strange, seeing the stands empty of the usual throngs of people and loud chants and cheers, but it was also nice. So he pulled out his Charms textbook and got to work memorizing incantations.

      He didn't know how much time had passed before he looked up from the pages, but it was a good thing he did, because the first thing he saw was a Quaffle -- barreling straight towards him.

     Eyes are still mesmerized by the handcrafted instrument. It spoke to him in ways only he could understand. This gift was also a curse--whilst bewildered and in awe of his tool--himself--his essence remained translucent. None of which he comprehended in the least. Pieces were fragile and brittle here. He still yearned to understand WHY--eyes finally shift from the wooden companion to the lone and luminescent rock in the sky.

Headcanon prompts