Every Little Thing, James Potter.

13. Nonverbal Spells

Classes started back up the day after traveling students returned home from holiday, giving them enough time to settle back into the dorms and reconnect with friends they hadn't seen since last term. For Gwen, this meant sitting in the Ravenclaw Common Room and pretending she cared when Housemates gushed to her about the gifts they received from loved ones.

     After a few minutes, Gilderoy didn't take nicely to all the attention not being on him, so he loudly announced to his friend that he'd gotten a Cleansweep 40 from his father for Christmas. Gwen, despite her promise to herself to never get involved in anything that had to do with Lockhart, couldn't hold her tongue from one-upping him with her new Nimbus 1000.

     Her first class of the new year was Defense. It had always been an easy class, pass or fail, and the students which she shared it with had proven not entirely dreadful. She'd grown a liking to this new professor, as well, which was good—the year prior's professor was a right old git who'd contracted a foul case of Spattergroit and couldn't come back for the following year. The students viewed this as a blessing from above.

     Professor Merrythought was a young woman, maybe twenty-five or somewhere around there, and quite short in stature that made her look even younger. She had the brightest red hair and honey-kissed skin, giving her the constant look as though she'd just returned from a trip to the beach.

     The first day back, though, she had definitely used her break to visit somewhere sunny—her nose was twinged red with the faintest sunburn, and she had all new freckles dotted along her cheeks.

     "Welcome back, sixth years," she said, as they all filtered in and took their seats. It was a shared class between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, due to Slytherin's use of the Quidditch pitch at the hour, and the two Houses made their separation quite obvious in their refusal to share desks with each other. Merrythought clapped her hands together. "Who all had a great break?"

"Got a new owl," said Mary, proudly. "Her name is Chip."

"Her name?" Sirius turned up his nose. "That's a boy's name, that is."

"Remind me, what's your name again?" Mary asked, innocently, before shooting him a scowl.

"My mum got me the most beautiful gown for the sixth year ball," sighed Marlene. She rolled her eyes and exhaled a heavy, toned breath in a way that made Gwen think she was acting a bit more dramatic than necessary. "Shame it'll have to wait until May to be seen. Tucked away in my closet, useless."

"What ball?" Peter scrunched up his face. "I'dn't heard anything of a ball—!"

"It's not for months, Pettigrew," said Walker, rolling his eyes. "And why are you worried, anyway? Not like you've got to scurry for a date."

"Writing Florence right now," Peter replied, as he scribbled furiously on a slip of parchment.

"Professor, are you going to the ball?" Sirius asked coyly; it was no secret to anyone that most of the elder boys found Merrythought somewhat fit.

"I will be in attendance," Merrythought confirmed, before narrowing her eyes. "Though don't any of you think it's appropriate to ask me."

"There goes my date," Sirius muttered to James.

Gwen raised her hand. "What are we doing today, Professor? I finished the essay you assigned us over break."

"Oh, that," Merrythought said, pointing at Gwen. "I'd forgotten all about that. If any others completed the Acromantula assignment, I'll give you extra points. But it's not for a real grade, since even I'd forgotten..."