The Transfiguration Assignment

Chapter Seven

"...and that would be, Miss Evans?"

Lily jumped, startled when she heard her name, and looked up into the face of Professor Flitwick. Wand held in the air, as if poised to deliver a spell, he was looking expectantly at her, as was the rest of the class, and Lily started to blush, dropping her eyes from her professor. She was acutely aware of James sitting next to her--and the way his knee was touching hers.

"It's...um...I mean..."

"The Fidelius Charm, professor," James said suddenly.

Lily shot a glance at him, startled. She felt his knee nudge hers under the desk, and a tingle shot up her spine. She nodded quickly in agreement.

Professor Flitwick frowned. "Yes, Mr. Potter, but I'm afraid I asked Miss Evans, not you."

"Sorry, professor," James replied, "but Lily and I were just talking about it."

"Hmmm." Professor Flitwick turned back to Lily. "Well, then, Miss Evans," he shot a glance at James, but Lily could tell he was secretly amused, "how is the information retrieved?"

Not looking at James, but quite aware of his stare, Lily replied, "The only way the information can be retrieved is if the Secret-Keeper chooses to reveal it; not even those who have the secret revealed to them can reveal it to others."

"Excellent," the professor said, and, shooting another glance at James, "Fifteen points to Gryffindor." He turned, continuing to talk to the rest of the class.

Lily avoided James's gaze, but she could only hold out for so long.

"What?" she finally whispered at him, jotting down what Professor Flitwick was saying.

"You could at least thank me," he said in reply, a bright twinkle in his eyes. She saw Sirius, a few seats away, craning his neck to look at them.

"Thank you for what, exactly?"

"For saving your arse back there."

She glared at him.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, come on, Lily. We both know that you weren't paying attention to a word Flitwick was saying."

"I don't need you to cover for me," she whispered furiously, her brow furrowing as she scribbled something down with her quill. "Besides, I was too listening."

"No you weren't."

"Yes, I was."

"No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was."

Just then, class ended, and students zoomed out the door. Lily quickly stood up and piled her things in her bag, still aware of James beside her, doing the same. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Why did she seem to know his every move? Why was she constantly glancing at him out of the corner of her eye? She must be coming down with something, she decided. Yeah, another part of her thought, and it's called Potteritis.

"Lily," a voice called from the doorway.

Lily looked up to see Meryl waiting for her. She hurriedly stuffed the rest of her books in her bag and caught up to Meryl, trying very hard to forget that James and his friends were following them down the corridor. They had their N.E.W.T level Transfiguration class next. Mondays were always a triple dose of Potter: Ancient Runes, Charms, and Transfiguration; nevertheless, the day hadn't been too bad. She knew that McGonagall wasn't going to let them work on their projects in class, but Lily felt they didn't need the time all that much. The books that James' dad had sent on Saturday were full of details that none of the books in the Hogwarts' library even hinted at. The steps for becoming an Animagi were so complex that Lily had gotten a headache just reading them through the first time. It was worse than making a Polyjuice Potion: for one, you were turned into an animal, not a person, and two, it took an incredible amount of inner magic and focus to learn to do. Lily didn't envy Professor McGonagal, even if being an Animagi gave you certain benefits.

Lily sat down in her usual seat in the Transfiguration classroom, pulling her notes out and unscrewing her bottle of ink. McGonagall wasn't in the room just yet, and the class was anxious for the hour and a half to be overwith so they could eat dinner.

Just then, a crowd of rowdy boys pushed past to reach their seats in the back, and an elbow jostled Lily's arm. Letting out a gasp, Lily watched as the next series of events seemed to happen in slow motion: the ink bottle flying from her hand, the liquid gushing out from the unstopped neck, and the great smashing sound it made against the desk, smattering everyone within an armlength's distance of Lily's desk with dark ink. The group of boys howled with irritation, the girl in front of Lily, Cecily Elwell, gave a loud screech, clutching her hair, and Lily stared at her Transfiguration notes, now drenched with ink.

A boy with thick, golden colored hair pushed his way through the crowd of ink-stained boys to Lily's side. His blue and bronze tie had one drop of ink on it, but otherwise he had been spared the messiness of the accident.

"Look here!" he said loudly. "Warrington, you shoved poor Lily!"

"It wasn't me, Albani." Charles Warrington tried to wipe the ink from his face, but only emphasized the impression of having a rather bad black eye. "Evans should watch what she's doing--Now I've got ink all over me!"

"You wouldn't have if you and your Slytherin friends didn't walk like giant trolls," Lance Albani replied. He looked at Lily, a concerned light in his startling blue eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Lily said. "Really." She bit her lip, still staring at her notes. Merlin, all the notes she'd taken for the huge Transfiguration assignment were gone now. All of them. So much for feeling prepared. Embarrassingly, an itchy feeling appeared behind her eyes and in the back of her throat. Lily was so busy trying not to cry that she didn't notice James coming up beside her.

"It's okay, Lily," James said. Crouching down, he picked up her ink bottle and screwed the top back on. Waving his wand, the excess of the ink on the desk and floor disappeared, but her notes were unsalvageable. He ignored Cecily Elwell, who was sniffling in the seat in front of Lily, running a hand through her ink-splattered hair, obviously trying to get his attention. "I'm sure Warrington didn't mean it."

"Didn't mean it! She's the one who bumped me!"

"If you lot hadn't been stampeding--"

"--now wait just one minute--"

"I don't think I'll be able to get this stain out--"

"I'm sure Warrington didn't mean it," Lance Albani said coldly. His eyes narrowed down at James. "Just what were you doing when that ink bottle exploded, Potter?"

A surprised silence met this unexpected remark. Lily looked at Lance in surprise. What was that supposed to mean?

James stood up slowly. "Are you trying to imply something?" he asked.

Lance crossed his arms. "Well, you are a Marauder, after all. Isn't all this something your type usually enjoys doing?"

James crossed his own arms as well, a frown marring his brow. "Sorry. My type? Just what type would that be?"

Lance opened his mouth to answer, but Professor McGonagal swept into the room. She gave one heated glare around the chamber and in less than five seconds everyone had scampered to their desks except James and Lance, both of whom were still standing over Lily and her ink-drenched Transfiguration notes.

"What's all this?" McGonagall asked, peering over her spectacles at the two boys.

"Lily's ink bottle got knocked over," Lance said at once, putting a hand on Lily's shoulder. He glared at James.

"It was an accident," Lily said. "I dropped it."

McGonagall glanced at the soggy mess on Lily's desk, waved her wand, and the soiled notes disappeared.

"I trust nothing more was ruined other than those notes, Miss Evans?" the professor inquired. At Lily's nod, McGonagall put her wand away and walked back to her desk. "You may return to your seats, Mr. Potter, Mr. Albani."

The two boys left to sit down. James did not look back at Lily. When he reached his seat at the back of the room, he ignored his friends' questions and took out his books instead. Lance gave her shoulder a small squeeze and smiled at her briefly before taking his normal spot in the second row, right next to Lily.

Lily suffered through the rest of the lesson, borrowing parchment from Margaret Tuttle on her right. But her mind was not on the subject; even as her hand raced to scribble down what McGonagall said, it kept dwelling on little things...little things like the fact that all those notes she'd taken Sunday night had to be rewritten...and that the ink in Cecily Elwell's hair was getting all over the sleeves of her button-up blouse...

"Hey, Lily," a voice whispered.

Lily glanced at Lance, startled out of her reverie. He smiled and offered her a bottle of ink; her bottle of ink.

"It was on the ground," he said softly. Lily noticed he'd scooted his desk a little closer to hers. "Potter left it there."

"Thanks." She took the bottle back, noticing it was nearly empty.

"I don't know what he was thinking," Lance whispered. Lily wondered if he knew about the large ink blot on his tie. "He probably thought you'd be nicer to him if he helped clean up the mess he caused."

"What do you mean?" Lily whispered back, distracted from taking down notes.

"He obviously meant it all as a prank--or something. I always thought the Marauders were a dumb group. There are better ways to have fun than to make fun of other people."

Personally, Lily agreed with that, but was still confused. "You mean, you think he made me drop the ink bottle?"

Lance shrugged. "Potter's a git. Juvenile. Irresponsible. I don't know why Dumbledore made him Head--" Lace cut himself off.

Lily looked up to see McGonagall staring at them from the blackboard. "Mr. Albani, do I have to separate you and Miss Evans, or may I get on with the lesson without any further interruptions?"

"We were just talking about Lily's ink bottle, professor," Lance explained rather lamely.

McGonagall's sharp eyes zeroed in on the ink bottle Lily was holding. Summoning it with her wand, McGonagall deposited it in a drawer in her desk. "If your conversation over Miss Evans' ink bottle is so important, feel free to stay after class and continue it, otherwise, turn to page 239 like the rest of your classmates."

Belatently, Lily realized that it had been her last ink bottle. She made a mental note to buy another during the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Thankfully, the lesson ended quickly, and Lily wasn't forced to borrow ink from someone else. McGonagall pursed her lips, reminded them that their projects were due in a week (how could any of them forget?) and dismissed the class.

Ignoring Lance's obvious attempts to apologize, Lily quickly packed up her things and rushed to the door. Meryl met her there, and together they set off towards the Great Hall.

"What were you and Lance whispering about when McGonagall took your ink bottle away?" Meryl asked, hoisting her bag more securely on her shoulder.

"Nothing," Lily said. She started down the stairs.

"Oh come on, Lil. Your heads were put together over something. Did he ask you to go to Hogsmeade with him on Saturday?"

Lily stopped walking. "What? No, of course not."

"Oh." Meryl smiled at her but didn't say anything until they were at the bottom of the staircase. "But you think he's cute, right?"

"No, I don't!"

"Admit it, Lily. You do too. You've always had a thing for blond Ravenclaws."

Lily smiled, but shook her head. "No, I haven't." They started down the next corridor.

"Denial, Lily, is the first step."

"The first step to what?"

Meryl frowned. "I'm not quite sure. But I know it's the first step to something. And I think you're right--I think it's me who's always had the thing for blond Ravenclaws."

"I told you it wasn't me."

"No, you have a thing for black-haired Gryffindors."

Blushing quite brilliantly, Lily smacked Meryl on the arm, refusing to think over that comment in depth. Meryl just held her arm and laughed good-naturedly.

"Anger is the next step, Lily!" she giggled, dodging around a pair of first years so that Lily couldn't smack her again.

But thinking about James had reminded Lily of her ruined Transiguration assignment notes, and the need to retake them. So she excused herself from Meryl and headed towards the Heads' Common Room. She wasn't in the mood for dinner, anyway, Lily told herself.

No sooner had she opened one of the books they were using on their assignment (and found a spare ink bottle of James' to use) than the portrait door opened. James threw his bag on the floor and dropped into the chair across the table from her, crossing his arms angrily. Lily glanced up at him, opened her mouth to say something, and then thought better of it. His face was unreadable, but Lily could sense the bad mood hovering over him like a dark storm cloud.

Her quill scratched along, the only sound in the silence between them for some time, until:

"Do you--do you think I did it?"

Lily looked over at James. He was staring at the wood pattern on the table. Lily noticed that his tie was missing.

"Do I think you did what?" she replied.

"Do you think I made you knock that ink bottle over?"

Lily couldn't believe her ears. "Of course not!" she exclaimed, dropping her quill. "Warrington bumped my arm when he was walking past; I dropped it and it splattered everywhere. It wasn't your fault. Why would you think so?"

James shrugged. "Lance Albani seemed to think so."

"Lance Albani is a Ravenclaw smartass who is only jealous because you got Head Boy and he didn't." The words were out of her mouth before she stopped to think about them. And once she had, she realized they were true.

James looked up at her, but he didn't smile. A fierce look was in his eyes, fiery and bright, something she couldn't name, but Lily blinked and a second later the look was gone.

There was a pause, and then he asked, "Were those your notes on the project? The ones that got ruined?"

"Yeah, and some class notes. But it's alright. These books your dad sent are great--everything we need is in them. It's just a matter of finding it all again."

James nodded thoughtfully. Lily bent over her book once again, but could feel his eyes on her as she wrote. After a few moments, he grabbed a book of his own, got out his quill and parchment, and started writing. They sat there in companianable silence well into the night, working together, sharing a bottle of ink.