“You know,” Sirius said as he walked into the compartment, “You should be wearing a tighter shirt.”

He plunked down in the seat next to me, elbowed the door closed, and looked me over from head to toe.

“Excuse me?” I stared at him dumbly, hoping that either: a) I’d heard him wrong, or b) I’d heard him right, but he had a reasonable explanation for his annoying comment, and was about to elaborate in a very polite manner. I snorted mentally. Fat chance.

“Let me down or Merlin help you I will hex your insufferable arse,” he wailed loudly.

“As much as I appreciate that pearl of wisdom,” I said scathingly, “You are in no position to be making threats Mr. Black.” I slid the compartment door shut, and took a seat next to Lily, who was watching James hurl serenely. “Men. So touchy,” I said.

I sighed melodramatically, tearing my enraged gaze from the back of Sirius’ head, and turned my stool a fraction of an inch so I was facing Lily. She was scribbling away furiously, already at her second roll of parchment. I looked down sheepishly at the single sentence I had been able to come up with.

Transfiguration is perhaps among the most complex branches of magic known to wizardkind, and requires much practice and perseverance.

Crickey, I am a walking encyclopaedia. Not.

“Well?” he asked, leaning down to my ear, trying and failing to be seductive, “How much?”

I shrugged his arm off. “Why don’t you ask your mother?” I sneered.