Life had turned rather uneventful over the past few weeks for Braeden Stonem.
Classes were dull, his best friend had become too busy with Quidditch, and everything overall was rather bland. However, this did give him some extra free time to do the two things he loved most - watching movies and writing scripts.

And so, as the Gryffindor boy blindly stuffed his face with pumpkin pie, his left hand held up a piece of parchment before him, on which he had written his latest script, his brown eyes reviewing the words he had scribbled with his messy, seven-year-old-childlike handwriting. Aw man… he was such an awesome writer. The Gryffindork flashed himself one of those goofy grins of his as he admired his own genius and sense of humour, all the while stuffing his face and being completely unaware of the crumbs all over his lips and chin.