Will Lowby, Hufflepuff fifth year, wanted nothing more than to sleep. Sleep, sleep, sleep. He couldn't do that, though, as he had Quidditch practice directly after this lesson, and there was a miniscule chance that he'd be more alert if he stayed awake, rather than give in to the battle his eyelids were fighting. He needed to be alert, if he ever wanted to move beyond Reserve Keeper.
Professor Binn's dirge-like diction, in concert with the rhythmic snores of Juliana Magelby on the desk behind him, was not helping matters. Not at all. The autumn sun seemed in on the conspiracy as well. Its warmth filtered through the ancient windows of the History of Magic classroom and crept across Will's face, issuing a persistent invitation to nap, and nap well. …
