Struggling to Feast

by Lily Elizabeth Snape

I sit at the appointed bench. Familiar smells, people, sounds assault me. Three months in solitude, starving, has made the Great Hall my worst fear upon return every year. I anticipate reprisal as I hesitantly scoop parsley potatoes from a dish my friend has handed me. I’ve the feeling 'Mione understands this state of limbo I struggle through. She knows if something’s not handed to me I likely won’t eat, though we’d never speak of it. I stifle a groan of delight as the delicately seasoned, hot food reaches my palette. I’ve been so hungry - mind, body, and soul.