Her dorm felt colder lately. Perhaps it was the harsher February wind sneaking in through the windows or perhaps it was just that she noticed it where before she'd barely paid the condition in the dorms any mind.

That conclusion made more sense.

She was noticing a lot more of her surroundings lately. Things like the rough feel of the parchment under her thumbs, the scent of the wood burning merrily in the fireplace before her, and even the sounds of the crackling mixing with the soft whispers from the other students gathered nearby all seemed distractingly loud and very present.

It was incredibly irratating, to the point that the witch was having a hard time concentrating on the small book she'd picked out for her pleasure.

Clearing her throat, Aslan turned the page and went right back to reading, or tried to, but the words seemed to repeat themselves over and over, but the words seemed to repeat themselves over and over and nothing of the Library's copy of the Tale's of Beedle The Bard were sinking in. With a frustrated, but dull glare Aslan closed the book and instead turned her attention to the glowing embers of the fire.