Little Bird

Chapter Six

Eve

            "Um...I don't think we're doing this right."

            Neville and I looked down at the candlestick that was supposed to be shifting into a quill, but was instead just turning a pale pink. I shook my head and agreed, "Yeah, we're definitely doing this wrong. You said it right, didn't you?"

            "I thought I did," Neville said uncertainly, looking around at the other tables to see what was happening to their candles. The rest of our Transfiguration class seemed to only be getting wax that was molded into the shape of a feather, but that was still ten times better than what was happening to ours.

            McGonagall was going around the room to see how everyone was doing, so I quickly refocused my attention on our candle—which was now slowly starting to melt.

           "Gross," I said, wrinkling my nose as the sickly-colored wax bubbled over onto the table. "Maybe if we...um, how do you even fix this?"

            "No idea," Neville shrugged, starting to panic now that McGonagall was getting closer. "Here, maybe we can start over—"

            He muttered some kind of spell that I didn't catch, and the wax slowly began to harden and conform back into a red candle. Once the candlestick looked normal again, he nudged my shoulder and kept a lookout for McGonagall. "Okay, you try it. Quick, she's coming."

            So I tried, shakily repeating the spell and awkwardly doing the correct movements the professor had taught us yesterday. The candle wax melted for the second time, slowly molding into the shape of a long feather. It wasn't a real quill, but at least it was no worse than what everyone else in the class had done.

            Neville clapped me on the back, grinning and saying, "That was brilliant, we should've just had you do it the first time."

            McGonagall passed by us then, observing the waxy feather with a raised eyebrow before continuing to the next table. As she walked away, I poked the wax with my wand and said, "Too bad it couldn't be a real quill. Transfiguration was never this hard at Beaubaxtons."

            "That's McGonagall for you," Neville said, rolling his eyes slightly. "At least you saved us, you have no idea how terrible I always do in this class..."

            "Well, you're lucky I'm here," I teased.

            McGonagall returned to the front of the classroom and expressed her firm disappointment at the fact that none of us had been able to produce a real quill, telling us we would need to try again. She demonstrated the spell for the second time, performing it easily and transforming the candlestick into a perfect quill. How could she always make it look so easy?

            As she set us off to try again, Neville changed our waxy feather back to a normal candle. I positioned it in front of us and said to him, "Okay, you go for it. Second time's a charm, right?"

            Neville laughed at this, saying, "It's usually the third time, but hopefully it won't come to that."

            As Neville tried the spell again, I glanced around the room to see how everyone else was doing. They seemed to be getting the same results as last time, but I saw that a few had managed to actually produce a quill. I didn't really know anyone else in the class, but when a Hufflepuff turned in his seat and proudly held up his quill to show me, I smiled and raised my eyebrows, impressed. He gave me a wide grin and turned back around, leaving me with a small smile still on my face. Everyone else was so nice to me; why did Slytherin have to be so cold to everyone, even the people in their own House?