Terry looks out the window forlornly. It's been a week or more now of snow, and there's nothing to do but revise the same work over and over. Terry doesn't much like revising, so sometimes he just pretends to revise. He'd play a game, but he's sick of beating everyone in Ravenclaw at chess, and it's the only game most of his housemates will play, other than, "Find the Grammatical Error" or Charades, to which the answer is always, "Someone panicking because NEWTs are coming up and Merlin I'll never be ready!"
He covers a yawn with his hand and glances at Anthony Goldstein, who's sitting at the table next to him, writing frenziedly as usual, but who at least doesn't seem to be revising. Terry thinks Anthony is a decent enough bloke, much less boring than most of the blokes in Ravenclaw. At least he can talk about something besides NEWTs.
Terry twirls his quill in his fingers absently and stares at the page in front of him, but perks up when he hears the door.