Eden had participated in many a conversation on empathy before, usually in an office, hallway, or spare classroom, often accompanied by a sniveling peer, and almost always after her actions lead an adult to the conclusion that she needed a better grasp on the subject.

She'd credit these many prior conversations and her almost-teenagerhood for her silence when...a certain Gryffindor third year opened her mouth. She didn't want to be like those whining first years, either.

(Not that she didn't agree that empathy was a crock of dung...she did! Why should Eden burden herself with the feelings of other people? Didn't she have enough on her own plate without worrying about people who likely didn't care at all about her? )

The Ravenclaw fought the urge to cringe as she listened to her classmates respond. Couldn't they just ditch the feelings mumbo-jumbo?

Ironically, it was only the highly effective pity-respect-commiseration combo Schmoe brought to the table that kept Eden from tuning the lesson out altogether. Heh. Some may even call that empathy. She raised her hand (fingernails decorated with little clouds on a sky-blue background) to participate in the discussion.

"We can practice empathy by minding our own business and not trying to get revenge on those who did us wrong last year." Yeaaaah.