Lily looked wearily at the quill in front of her on the desk. She bloody hated Transfiguration. She could still remember the flabbergasted look she had on her face when Professor McGonagall had told her she would be turning a matchstick into a needle six years ago. Now she was at the Newt level, one foot practically out Hogwart's front door, and she was no less appalled. An inanimate object into a living, breathing animal? Her writing utensil into an elegant, idyllic dove? The feather, she would admit, was a common element to the before and after, but it was still an immense undertaking, to say the least.

She tried to follow Professor McGonagall's instructions, writing down anything palpable she could hold onto, but Lily knew it was a hopeless pursuit. Why should she be stressing about the finer details of the beak or its ability to sing when she knew she would be lucky to get a pair of wings? She cast her quill a disapproving glare, silently cursing herself for buying black ones. 'They're poetic and different,' she had said at the store. Now she was just saddled with an extra step to worry about and the likelihood of a creepy, dark bird.

The professor instructed that it was time to attempt the spell, and Lily was reluctant to undergo the usual embarrassment that the practical period promised. She stared ominously at her wand, wondering in what way it would betray her today. Maybe it was possible Ollivander had made a mistake with hers? It was short and swishy, supposedly indicating that she had a smaller personality and was easily able to adapt and change. Although she'd seldom admit it, she knew that she had quite the tendency to be vivacious and stubborn, so it certainly seemed like a horrible match.

"You okay there, Lily?" a voice asked to her left.

"'Lo, Remus," she replied softly. She didn't look up from her wand.

She could see him shift uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye. "Any particular reason you look like you're plotting your wand's death?" he questioned with an awkward chuckle.

"Just wondering what display of treachery and misplaced priorities it's going to show shortly." She finally met his eyes. "Ever think that maybe they got it wrong?" He gave her a confused look in response. "The wands," she elaborated. "I was eleven. I had just found out about magic the week prior. How on earth would Ollivander know enough to match me for the rest of my life?"

"Wand chooses the wizard, Lily," he said, before wandering back to his mates. She could tell he thought she was a little crazy.

Lily took a deep breath, briefly thinking of all the places she'd rather be than exactly where she was, before picking up the wand. It was a piece of wood designed to do her bidding, and she decided to really see what it could do for her. After all, maybe the problem all these years was that she was too afraid of failing to really go for it.

Alright… she thought to herself, holding her notes up next to her quill. Now, what did McGonagall say the incantation was? Right… 'Columbantina!' Or, actually, maybe it was more of a 'Columbantiano!' That sounds better…. Now a little circle here, to multiply the feathers… increase the size… Swing to the side to elongate the beak… Upwards flick, for the gift of flight, Counter-clockwise twirl, for the gift of song…. 'Columbinaceus!' for… actually, she didn't say. I guess the je ne sais quoi? And… a final swish for the eyes! Done!

Lily placed her wand back on the table and watched as her quill transformed before her eyes. First, the pen sprouted legs and a head, then slowly a feathered torso. But then it grew to roughly half a metre in height and gained wings that were both bony and possessing claws. Its beak was about the size of Lily's fist, and it promptly started squawking like a dying raccoon as soon as it could use it. When all was said and done, it looked like a gigantic parrot with the wings of a bat, legs of an ostrich, and mouth of a horror story. And she hadn't even remembered to turn the monstrosity white.

The avian creature quickly absorbed the world with its violently red eyes and took no time in hopping off the desk and unevenly flying around the classroom. Alice's dove, which had previously been perched on her finger, chirping happily, was soon found dead and bloody in the monster's mouth, which triumphantly returned to its maker to show off its catch. However, when the contents of its beak proved to be nothing more than a frayed quill, the beast turned out to have quite the temper, which it rapidly directed toward the nearest person – the one with the convenient, flaming red hair.

Lily lunged backward as the freak of nature struck out blindly. It continued to claw at her, and with somewhat of a cry (but in actuality, more like a shriek), she fell to the ground. She had a precious moment to recover before the mutant bird descended on her face, and when it did, it was everywhere. She tried not to draw too much attention upon herself, but it was scratching, clawing, and biting, and the pain was searing.

Then, as suddenly as the whole mess had started, it was over. Lily cautiously opened her eyes in time to see her 'poetic' and 'different' black quill floating slowly down to her face. She slowly sat up to see the face of her saviour and should not have been surprised that it was none other than James Potter. "Alright there, Evans?" he asked with an arrogant grin plastered to his face. It was cocky, ugly, and humiliating. She ignored the hand he offered her and stood the rest of the way up on her own. Brushing herself off, she replied, "just a little frazzled." She could feel blood dripping down the side of her face; she hoped he couldn't see it. Professor McGonagall was over at their sides before anything else could be said.

"My word, Miss Evans! Never in all my years have I ever seen a student produce such a creature! Thank goodness Mr. Potter was able to save the day!" It took a good deal of restraint for Lily not to glare at the lady. A student had almost died on her watch and she sounded like she was a paid actor for the James Potter show. With great pain, she turned to face James: "Yes, thank you Potter. I really appreciate it."

McGonagall turned to talk to some more with James, and Lily, not wanting to hear him praised anymore, made her way back to her desk instead. Class was nearing an end, so she decided to pack up her things. When she was finished, she felt a little queasy and decided to sit down, only to suffer through countless jibes from the Slytherins. After a few minutes of hearing all about how mudbloods can't do magic, McGonagall finally came by, which effectively silenced them.

"Miss Evans," she greeted. "Would you mind having a word with me up front?" Lily nodded meekly, and followed the teacher to her desk. "Lily, I know you're a very diligent and conscientious student," she started sympathetically, "and I'm very sorry that Transfiguration isn't something that comes easily to you. I know you work very hard, and I've tried to mark you mostly on your written work because of this, but you're going into your Newts and I can't continue this in good conscience. Your spellwork needs to improve."

Lily was sure her face looked red and mortified. "I know, professor, and I try, I really do. I'm just not sure what else I can do – I don't seem to be much of a transfigurer."

"I know, dear, you clearly need help. That's why I've decided to set you up with a tutor." McGonagall gave her a pleasant smile, as if she had called in some huge favour for her.

"Oh, uh, Professor," she stammered. "Are you really sure that's the best course of action?" She couldn't think of a more unpleasant activity, nor of a more humiliating experience.

"Oh yes, Lily, you really need hands-on help."

"But isn't there any chance you could be the one to help, professor?" Lily would usually rather die than disagree with a teacher or solicit one for help – now she was doing both. McGonagall's smile faltered for a moment, and Lily thought it very likely that the teacher was considering reprimanding her for her audacity. Backpedalling, she added "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Professor McGonagall, it's just that having a good handle on Transfiguration yourself is a completely different thing from knowing it well enough to teach someone else. This year is really important, and I want to learn from the best."

Her smile returned. "I can't play favourites with students I happen to like, Lily, so that isn't an option. I wouldn't worry, though, I think this will really work." Lily was about to raise more objections, but McGonagall chose that moment to notice she was hurt. "My word, Lily, you're bleeding! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Lily wiped away some of the blood with her hand. "It's nothing, don't worry about it," she informed her with a little smile. She did feel pretty weak, but she was sure she could make it to charms just fine.

"Nonsense! A student was hurt in my class by an unknown animal. It could be poisonous for all we know! You'll have to go get taken care of." The woman looked down right maternal.

"Really, professor, I feel fine. I'd much rather go to charms." She was swaying a little on her feet.

"No, I won't hear any of that. In fact, you look pale and quite unwell. Potter!" she called out.

"Potter?" Lily questioned with a sense of dread.

"Yes, James," she said warmly when he was at her desk. "Would you please escort Miss Evans to the hospital room and see to it that she gets that cut attended to?"

"Of course, professor!" he responded brightly. He wore a grin that looked both proud and mischievous, and Lily didn't like it one bit. When she didn't start moving, James pulled her toward the door, and she followed with a resigned pout. They walked the first few minutes in silence.

"You really don't have to take me, you know," she told him. "I'm fine, so you should go to charms." She felt more than a little embarrassed at the whole ordeal, as well as a touch guilty for intruding on his day.

"You know the blood is actually starting to stain your uniform, right?"

"What?" she yelped, padding around the collar of her robes. True to form, her hands came back red and sticky. "Where is it even coming from?"

"There's a large gash behind your ear," James informed her matter-of-factly. "Your monster also ripped out a piece of your hair and your scalp is bleeding."

Lily stopped dead in her tracks. "What?" she questioned. "No," she insisted. "There's no way." She reached a tentative hand up to her head and anxiously groped around. She hissed wildly when she found the missing patch. It stung like nobody's business.

Tears formed in her eyes, which she desperately tried to blink back. She had withstood the mortification of everyone witnessing her Transfiguration disaster. She had remained stoic through all her classmates' insults and affronts, and she had even accepted the fact that she would soon be peer tutored. But her hair? Her vision started going black and she wobbled as she tried to keep upright.

In a blink of the eye, she was tottering over to the side, but James quickly ran over and steadied her. "Hey, don't worry," he soothed. He was rubbing circles into her shoulder with the arm he had around her. "It's not a very big piece, I'm sure no one will notice. You can… wear your hair in bangs? That might hide it," he suggested. He brought his spare hand up to wipe away the tears that had escaped her eyes.

Lily let out a small sob and opened her mouth to disagree, to explain how this piece of hair really was the end of the world, but she just couldn't bring herself to be that silly. Now also crying at the embarrassment of having a break down in front of the boy she had sworn to hate, she wept a little more. She would later reflect on this moment and marvel at how hard it is for one to stop bawling once the floodgates have opened.

James looked around uncomfortably, wondering to himself if birds were all this emotional. He had hoped that her tears would have ceased after a minute, but when they actually began to intensify, he pulled her head to his shoulder and patted it, careful to avoid the damaged scalp. A few shushes and comforting murmurs later, he decided that it was time to get going and that he should leave her in healer McMillan's capable hands. James told her as much, but she made no move to stop leaning on him, so he started walking her in the direction of the wing. "Err, Lily?" he asked cautiously, after a little while, "have you ever considered just, you know, not taking Transfiguration?" Her crying picked up. "I don't mean to be rude," he continued quickly, "it's just that it seems to be causing you a lot of distress. I mean, why put yourself through all the trouble?"

"Well, well what if I want to be an auror?" she blubbered.

"You want to be an auror?" he asked, concerned.

"Well, no, not really," she said with a frown, accurately predicting where the conversation would head.

"Good," he concluded, relieved.

"Good?" she questioned.

"Of course," he replied easily, "being an auror is dangerous."

"Dangerous? Do you say that because I'm a woman?" Her tears were still wet on her face; she hadn't wasted one minute in turning from anguish to vexation.

"Nope," he answered. "I say that because you're rubbish at Transfiguration." They had reached the hospital wing, and he gave her a pat on the back as he opened the door and helped her inside.

Once she was settled on a bed, she looked up and met his eyes. "You want to be an auror, though, right? It's somehow okay for you to go and be dangerous?"

"Of course! I'm a transfiguration God, not to mention strong and heroic." With a flirtatious wink, he was off to find Healer McMillan. Lily casually eyed the hospital room, which was empty save for one sleeping first year, wondering how some boys managed to conduct themselves with such confidence. She wistfully thought about how nice it would be if she could actually take their suggestions at face value, rather than have the knowledge that all men were serial flirts.

"Now, what have we here?" Lily looked up to see a man in his early seventies. He was wearing a healer's uniform that was bleached, ironed, and spotless (or, well, the magical equivalents), and he had a very firm stance with a perfectly straight back and rigid jaw. He took is job very seriously.

"Just a small cut," she answered plainly. With any luck, he would slap on a bandage and send her on her way. James, apparently, had other ideas.

"It's an unknown magical creature attack," he corrected. He smirked at her when the healer wasn't looking.

"An unknown magical creature? It could be poisonous! Its claws could be cursed! Here, lie down, miss." Within moments, she was being forced to drink a plethora of potions as the healer muttered countless spells and gathered more than a few ointments. In all the hustle and bustle, James slipped out before Lily could so much as level him with a death glare. Lily lay down as the she started to feel the effects of the sleeping drought she had been made to drink, and replayed the events of the day. She was incredibly relieved to think that, now James had left, they could return to things as normal. She was a little ashamed that she had let him see her when she was so vulnerable, and she was sure he would blab about the whole thing to his friends, but they were a tight, closed circle, so it probably wouldn't go much further. As her eyes drifted shut, Lily idly wondered who McGonagall had chosen to be her tutor. If she were a betting woman, she would have put her money on Benjy Fenwick. He was a reliable, model student, and she even had heard him bragging that he was top in their year last June. Yes, she concluded, as sleep took her, I can live with Fenwick as a tutor.

oooooooooo

James had a lot going through his mind as he knocked on the door to Charms class. It swung open and he walked inside. "Ah, Mr. Potter. The reason for you tardiness?" Professor Flitwick inquired.

"McGonagall asked me to take Evans to the hospital wing," he said casually. Were it any other teacher, he would have added a 'Professor' and 'Miss' to that sentence, but he wasn't particularly worried with Flitwick.

"Oh, right, of course," the professor mumbled, turning back to the board. "Please take your seat."

"Mate, you okay?" Sirius whispered as James sat down beside him. "You've got blood on you."

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine," he muttered. "It's Lily's. She lost a piece of hair."

James didn't turn his head when he heard voices the row behind him. "You hear that, Avery?" the voice inquired. "Potter's come to class covered in dirty blood. It'd be tragic, seeing a pureblood in this state, if it didn't mean that the mudblood had lost it."

James didn't respond, even though he identified the voice as belonging to Mulciber. "Yeah," Avery agreed. "I heard she lost her mudblood red hair, too. It's a good day for the real wizards."

James didn't say a word, even though that was clearly what they wanted. He didn't tell the teacher or even so much as send them a warning glance. But when he would visit Lily at the hospital wing that evening, he would note that there were two additional patients.

oooooooooo

Before James even had a chance to shut the door behind him, Healer McMillan was before him. "There's no time for visitors tonight," he said sternly. "I'm trying to help two physical traumas and, as you can see, your friend is asleep. So please leave."

"She's asleep?" he asked, ignoring the healer's requests. "Is everything okay? She's not really hurt, is she?"

"We know nothing about the animal – I'm just taking precautions," he answered moodily. The one thing he hated above all else was people questioning his professional judgement.

"Ah, alright then. Actually, this is great," James told the man.

"Great?"

"Yeah, that she's asleep – I want to talk to you about something."

"Go on," the healer drawled. He doubted he was going to enjoy this conversation.

"Well, it's just her hair. You know the thing took a piece. Do you know any spell that could give it back to her?"

"No," the man insisted. His eyes flared with anger.

"No?" James questioned, surprised. "You don't know of anything?"

"No, I won't do anything."

"What? Why not?" James was amazed at the seeming display of selfishness.

"Why not?" His voice was rising. "I'll tell you why not! This isn't some place for you ungrateful teenagers to come and hang out and vent. I won't fix your friend's hair because I'm a healer, not a hair dresser, and this is a hospital wing, not a beautician's salon!"

James, taken aback, raised his hands in defeat. "Okay, alright, I get it." He started to move toward Lily's bed, but Healer McMillan stood in his way.

"No, you can't see her. I already asked you to leave."

"I just want to give Lily her Charms homework," he argued. "I won't even wake her up if you want her to sleep."

"No," the man deadpanned. "You can get out or I can have the headmaster come and take you out," the healer threatened. However, just then, both men were surprised to here a voice from the other side of the room.

"Potter?" she questioned. James gestured in her direction, and with a pained sigh, the healer started to walk away. "You have five minutes," he warned.

Sitting down next to her bed, James flashed Lily a big smile. "How you feeling?" he asked.

"Groggy, hypotensive, out of sorts. You wouldn't happen to know how Avery and Mulciber ended up in here, would you?"

"Oh, Lilypad, I'm quite certain they'd never tell me. After all, I'm sure they're very embarrassed at being physically bested so easily." He gave her a wink.

"Oh, of course," she murmured absentmindedly. She felt like there was another question she was supposed to ask, but it wasn't coming to mind. Then she remembered a bit of the conversation that had woken her up. "You said you brought Charms homework?"

James chuckled a little at how hopeful she sounded. "I lied," he said simply.

Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Then why are you here?" she wondered out loud.

"Because I wanted to see you. See how you were doing." Healer McMillan started hovering near the bed, giving James a frustrated look and gesture telling him to hurry it along.

"To see me?" she questioned. "You're not making a habit of this are you?"

"A habit?" James questioned. McMillan cleared his throat loudly at the bed next to Lily's.

"Well, you know, this morning… and uh, now…" she explained weakly. She flushed a little.

"Oh, of course," James condescended. Growing tired of McMillan's hinting, he decided to depart for the night. "Well, I should hope that I am forming a habit," he told her, standing up.

"What, why?" Lily asked anxiously. She wondered if he had gone off his rocker.

James was already halfway to the door. Turning around briefly, he answered with a cunning smile, "Because I'm your new Transfiguration tutor, Evans."