Disclaimer: You know, if JKR doesn't get around to writing Order of the Phoenix, I may just lay claim to Harry Potter and write it myself. I'd like to see her stop me; I'm bigger than she is.

You know, except maybe Professor Lupin, my favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts professor has to be Professor Renard. Her lessons are actually useful, and she's not evil. Well, as far as I can tell.

Hermione was right; the Erectus Charm was on the test. And I imagine she got perfect marks on it, owing to the fact that she's too smart for her own good and all.

The test wasn't too hard, believe it or not. I think I did well. Better than Neville, anyway, who giggled along with Professor Renard whenever she said the name of the spell. "And the Erectus… hehehe… Charm is done simply by thrusting your wand… heh… and shouting 'Erectus Corpus!'"

After Defence Against the Dark Arts, we had Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid must be ill or something, because the only creatures we had to deal with were owls. Most people brought a school owl, but those of us who did have them brought ours. If you can call Pig ("Pigwidgeon.") an owl at all.

"All right now. Yer owls're very sensitive to yer spells," he told us, appraising everyone's bird. "Yer snowy owls and the eagle owls'll react different, but if you use the right charms, you're fine."

Mum told Hermione she could use Errol, because "those school owls are hardly good enough, dear." Not that Errol is much better, mind, being the feather duster he is. He kept falling asleep halfway through Hermione's stamina spells. Finally, I got fed up with him.

"Here," I said, putting Pig's cage in front of her and taking Errol's.

"Ron… I couldn't," she replied.

I scoffed. "You try nailing that bloody feathery git with a charm. You're doing me a favour."

She laughed a little, and turned her attention to the cage. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

When I took Errol back to where I'd been not hitting Pig, I saw Hagrid wink at me, and I decided that Harry was right. Everyone did know.

~*~

You've noticed how spry Errol seems lately? Well, I used the wrong spell on him. It worked out better though. Instead of Buho Reenergizium I used Buho Rejuvenatius. One makes the animal feel younger; the other makes the animal actually younger. I'm surprised no one did it to him before.

Anyway, after class, when Hermione gave me a rather more-than-usually excited Pig, we went in for lunch. No one spoke as we ate, except for Hermione, who poked the roast beef and muttered "slave labour".

"So, did you finish your Transfiguration essay?" she asked me after we finished. I think my eyes widened considerably.

"Damn it!" I exclaimed.

"Ron!"

I ignored her and searched through my bag for my half-finished essay. "How long was it supposed to be again?" I asked when I pulled it out.

"A foot and a half," she replied while unrolling her three feet of parchment.

"Oh." That wasn't so bad. "Hey, since you've obviously done at least twice that, no chance I could borrow a measly six inches?"

"No, but you can borrow a quill." She dropped it on my paper, and the way it landed screamed "Start writing unless you don't want to hear the end of it."

I picked it up and, seeing it was self-inking, started scribbling furiously. She, meanwhile, was double-checking hers for errors, which was no small task. Harry had wandered off somewhere, leaving us alone. Come to think of it, I still don't know where he went. Why're you turning red?

I think I only lifted the quill a couple times, even on the way to class. I finished it just as we entered the door, charmed it dry, and sat down with a sigh. That's when I noticed there was a rock on my desk and a Harry to my right.

"Where'd you disappear to?" I asked. To the Harry, not the rock.

"I had to go help G…eorge. He needed… er… the Map," he replied, staring at the rock in front of him. I shrugged.

"Wands out, everyone," McGonagall said when everyone sat. "I trust you all took the notes I assigned?"

No, I thought. Hermione, however, looked not only prepared, but also eager.

"Today, we're going to be doing floral Transfiguration. Now, while this may seem a step down from animal Transfiguration, it isn't. Plant Transfiguration requires more finesse and effort, which means you have to focus exactly on what you want your plant to look like." She lifted the rock on her desk. "You'll be working with these, transforming them into roses. Five points to Gryffindor if anyone in here does it perfectly."

Believe it or not, I was prepared. I knew how to make the perfect rose. See, when Charlie gave me his wand, he taught me a couple things. Two, to be exact. That slug curse that didn't work out too well, and this.

I pointed my wand at the rock, with my wand held at just the right angle. "Rocher Rosa Asula!" I said, and in a flash of light, a blue rose was sitting before me.

"Wow," Hermione whispered, seeing the flower. Hers was red, but aside from that, it was a very near copy of mine.

"Wow indeed, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said. I hadn't noticed her before, but she was standing right beside our table. Harry's didn't look so bad either, except that it was still rock hard. "Ten points to Gryffindor. Well done, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley."

I heard Harry whisper, "How did you do that?"

I grinned and replied, "Lady Luck." Which was true, I wouldn't have been able to do it if I hadn't been lucky enough to have already known it.

"'Lady Luck,'" Harry scoffed. "I know luck, that isn't luck. Didn't come from any lady, either."

~*~

By the end of the class, most everyone had some progress done on their roses. Harry's ended up rather nice looking, although he lost some points for not having any thorns. I think I should have taken Muggle Studies, because I heard Hermione singing, "Every rose has its thorn," and I had no idea why Harry glared at her for it.

After class, I waited for Hermione who was talking to Professor McGonagall. Again. Professor Sprout was generally nice about being late for class anyway.

When she finally came out, I pulled out my rose. "Hermione?"

"Ron?"

"You know, I'm probably just going lose or smash this thing. Why don't you take it?" I asked, holding it out for her.

"Thank you Ron, it's beautiful." There was an awkward silence until she thought to check the clock. "Oh no, we're going to be late!"

Before I had the time to make a scathing-but-light-hearted retort, she gripped my wrist and half-dragged me to Herbology. All the while, I kept thinking She's holding your hand! Say something you idiot!

We arrived, thanks to Hermione's quick feet, seconds before the class started. We've been working with Dreary Spider Scrubs, which I've very successfully avoided.

"Everyone here?" Professor Sprout asked. She looked around the room and nodded. "Yes? Good. Now, everyone raise their wand arm."

I tried, but I couldn't. "Hermione, I'm going to need that back," I whispered. She stammered an apology when she realised she hasn't let my wrist go, and let me raise my hand.

Professor Sprout waved her arm around and all ours were instantly covered in arm-length gloves of some kind, far more protective than the short dragon hide gloves we wore normally. "Everyone is to harvest at least a dozen spiders from their scrubs," she explained. I went white. "These gloves should keep them from crawling onto your skin." The "should" in there scared me.

I was sharing with Harry and Hermione, both of whom had two already. Come on, are you a Gryffindor or not? I thought, staring at the evil little plant-arachnids climbing through the leaves. I closed my eyes, snatched one, and tossed it into my jar.

By the end of the class period, I had got up the courage to do that nine more times. On the last one, it escaped my hand and crawled up my other arm. The little thing would have bitten me if I hadn't smashed it.

I slammed the lid shut on my jar and ran over to the sink. "Nasty little things," I muttered, washing off the spider goo. Sprout started collecting them when I was washing up, so I rushed back.

"Potter? 11… 13?" she counted, holding Harry's jar. "Granger? 15…17…19? Nicely done, Miss Granger." I thought for a moment that I was going to be the only student in the class who didn't get all his spiders. "An even dozen, Weasley?" Huh?

I looked to Harry, and he pointed at Hermione. "Thank you," I whispered as emphatically as I could.

"It was only three. And I'm not doing it for any other class," she whispered back. "And you're welcome."

~*~

Nothing really important happened for the rest of the night. Except that you stole Harry and wouldn't give him back. What were you doing with him, anyway? And why are you red again? Are you getting sick?

Ron isn't the most observant of all students, is he? Poor dear.

You know, looking over this, a lot of this sounds horrible when taken out of context. The worst would be "How long is it supposed to be?" That makes me giggle. And I wrote it not even thinking that way!