(Jared McKinley)

The kid was a mystery. He really was. The Weasley kid. The youngest son. I had known his father for a short time. Probably a few weeks. His father obsessed about all his sons but I heard nothing about this one. Ron. He's tall, probably 6'4" or so with broad shoulders and. His hair is almost to his shoulders, no doubt he's growing it out in attempt to hide, though he doesn't know it. He has deep-set blue eyes but he seems like he hasn't slept since the war...he probably hasn't.

The poor kid didn't know what he was getting into when he befriended the Potter boy. War, and all else.

In class he is timid and outspoken. I can tell he hasn't always been like this. I try to reach out to him but he wants nothing to do with me. I don't know whether or not I want to change it and I decide that for a while maybe I should forget about him, but something draws me toward him.

"Alright," I said loudly, the class quieted slowly and soon their attention turned toward me, "We're going to get into some real work today!" Groans. "Now you're all fifth years...you've done the small stuff. Porcupines into pin-cushions and such...today you will be doing things that actually might come in handy, no offense to Professor McGonagall or anything. I want to know...what do you want to transform?"

I walked down the aisles, waiting for suggestions. No one spoke up.

"Come on," I said, "Anything? Moses? A staff into a snake? No I suppose you could conjure one...being magic is..." I smiled at the class, "Sometimes odd, isn't it? Sometimes one spell isn't needed because another spell is used so often. Transfiguration can be replaced with conjuring."

The Weasley kid caught my eye and looked away quickly. I turned to the board and began writing, for lack of anything else to do. It was too early in the year for them, and for me as well. Why use our minds just yet? I didn't want to do anything, and they sure as bloody hell didn't either.

(3rd person)

The bell rang forty-five minutes later into the class period and the students gathered their things and headed for the door. Professor McKinley was sitting on his desk, smiling at them as they left. When Ron walked by, the confident professor said,

"Ron would you stay for a moment please?"

Harry and Hermione stopped as Ron froze, McKinley waved them out. Ron stood in front of the teacher, waiting.

"You need a permission slip in order to hold tryouts," Professor McKinley said, standing and grabbing a piece of parchment, "On Sunday, right?"

"Yeah," Ron said, shifting his books from one arm to the other, "Sunday."

Professor McKinley handed him the piece of parchment. Because this was the class before dinner, he had no new students coming in.

"Did I offend you?" he asked, crossing his arms, "At all?"

"No..." Ron said slowly, "What?"

"You seem hostile towards me."

Ron shrugged. He wasn't sure how to respond, or if he should. Professor McKinley did not seem angry, only confused. Ron looked up at him.

"You can tell me why you don't like me," McKinley said, "I only want to know."

"Uh-huh," Ron said, "Well...I don't really know. You're new...I guess..."

"You don't like new people?"

Ron shrugged.

"Do you think you're having trust issues because of the war?" McKinley asked.

Again, Ron shrugged. Then nodded slightly. Then he shrugged again and left the room. His heart was pounding so loudly that he could barely hear anything else. Instead of going to the Great Hall he went straight to the Gryffindor Tower and collapsed onto his bed.

The following day he faked a headache and stayed in bed all day, and also told Harry to run practice. He felt the need to avoid everyone at the moment, and just laid there, thinking.

"Hey, Captain," Seamus greeted as he walked through the door, his hair wet from the rain. He tossed his gear onto the floor in front of his bed and sat next to Ron, "Feeling any better?"

"Yeah I guess so," Ron replied.

Other than the fact that I'm in love with my Transfiguration professor, sure.

If you took the time to read it, review it. And if you don't have much to say just rate it on a scale of one to ten in content as well as punctuation. Don't feel weird for just leaving a number, cause I'll know what it means.