The tide rolled in soft and steady, brushing over their bare feet as they walked along the shoreline. The sky was beginning its descent into twilight, the horizon painted in streaks of orange and violet, the sea catching the light in shimmering ripples. Benjy carried his shoes in one hand, the other tucked firmly into the pocket of his cloack, while Caradoc strolled beside him, hands gesturing as he spoke.
They found a dry patch of sand near the dunes and sat down, the warmth of the day still clinging to the ground beneath them. Benjy pulled a battered book from his jacket, flipping through pages that were curled from years of use.
“Alright,” he said, “least favorite wizard poem, go.”
Caradoc let out a laugh, leaning back on his hands. “Oh, easy. Ode to the Empty Cauldron by Thaddeus Trelawney. It’s five pages of saying the same thing over and over again. ‘Oh, wondrous potion, you are now gone!’ Again and again. It means nothing.”
Benjy smirked. “It means he ran out of potion.”
Caradoc rolled his eyes. “Alright, then. What’s the book? Nicholas Nott: Collected Poems?”
Benjy snorted. “Never. He’s worse than Trelawney. It’s a Muggle poetry book.”
Caradoc’s eyebrows shot up. “You read Muggle poetry?”