backdated to last night Who: Neville and Open What: Studying for Transfigurations When: Thursday evening, November 24 Where: Library Status: Open/Threaded/rating pg for language
He recalled how fun it had been, back during the summer, to show off a bit for Luna with some of his skills. Now, Neville felt like he knew nothing when it came to the subject. It was getting progressively trickier, with the theory and practices behind it, and Neville rubbed his head as he sat at one of the quiet tables not far from the front door. He paused in his reading, and glanced about the room, noting the crowd of other students, all who seemed to have the same idea as he did, using the time to get their work finished. Neville let his eyes linger for a moment on each student before he gave a small sigh and turned back to his book, knowing he should reread the text again.
He couldn't help but think about the comment that his mother had written to him in his journal. He actually had never gotten detention, ever, and she was right to poke fun at him about it. The other comments were equally thought provoking. There were some great ideas presented, and Neville knew he needed to get together with Harry, and Ginny and let them know, to sort it all out. The DA was really Harry's organization, and Neville wasn't trying to take it over; he just wanted to offer the support he thought it needed. And it didn't seem like such a bad idea, for the group to be practicing, however they made it happen. The one notion of partner, or dueling buddies made loads of sense.
He was pondering that notion, wondering just how one would go about matching people up. Would you put an advanced person with a beginner? Or let beginners practice with each other? But if they did that, Neville speculated, how would the beginners get better? And what about the more skilled people? They might get frustrated at being bogged down with a newbie? It was a muddle that Neville wasn't sure he was qualified to sort out. He was distracted with his thoughts, his eyes looking off as he twirled a quill in his fingers, his book in front of him, ignored.