“star”; horror fan; hm reporter; film fanatic 🎬
Wendall had so many thoughts swirling around in his head. Some good, some bad, most of them confusing. He used to think that the older he got, the easier things would be. He would know more which meant that things would be clearer, and instead he was faced with more problems with every year that came to him. The third year was sat in the Conglomerated Arts room, hoping that the change of scene would help his inspiration for his work that he was doing at a small table near the back of the room by himself. Despite being on the Hogwarts Monthly team, Wendall wasn't sure he was a very good writer although he did like to try. Besides this wasn't for Hogwarts Monthly, so much as one of his own projects he was looking forward to getting started. He didn't mind that there weren't so many people here, his lip was still bruised from the feast when he'd fallen over and bitten it, although at least the trip to the hospital wing meant that it was no longer quite so sore and swollen. It had been embarrassing, having the Head Boy of all people help him out, although he was secretly glad he had. Zennon had stayed with him and Leda for a while over the break, and even though Wendall hadn't really spoken to him much he seemed nice-ish. Wendall's tongue was stuck out as he concentrated on getting the write words to try and explain what he wanted to portray, although it was much easier to visualise these things in his head he would have to get it down on paper if he wanted this to work.