Reina growled bashing her head against the trunk of her favorite tree. She couldn't believe the stupidity that came with this year's crop of Ravenclaws. The sorting hat messed up and put a couple of Gryffindors in Ravenclaw by mistake, she decided. She bashed her head against the trunk again. What nerve they had, defiling the house of Rowena Ravenclaw, her ancestor, in such stupid ways. If they were going to break the rules, Ravenclaws were suppose to be sly and crafty, and intelligent, not a bunch of bumbling morons who get caught every time they turn around.
She took a deep breath, looking out over the lake. Irish meowed in her lap, snuggling up against her skirt. Reina ran a heavy hand over his soft orange fur. It was cold now, frost painted the grass beneath the tree. In two weeks it would be the end of term. It did no good to dwell on petty things.
She took a deep breath, looking out over the lake. Irish meowed in her lap, snuggling up against her skirt. Reina ran a heavy hand over his soft orange fur. It was cold now, frost painted the grass beneath the tree. In two weeks it would be the end of term. It did no good to dwell on petty things.