Hermione sighted as she shut her favourite book, flopping back onto her soft white comforter. She let the battered book fall forward onto her face, after which it slid into her bushy brown hair. In Matilda everyone liked the nerd. She rolled over onto her stomach, letting a tearful cry out into the pillow. Why does no one like me?
A soft thud echoed through her bedroom.
The eight year old poked her head out from under the pillow, pushing herself into a sitting position. There, next to her perfectly organised bookshelf, lay a copy of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. One Hermione was certain had been tucked into its spot five minutes ago. The book she had just finished rushed through her mind, alone with memories of all of the times that things just seemed to happen.
As she focused her entire mind on the book on the ground, slowly, slowly, it began to move.