"I want you to concentrate," Professor McGonagall said as Pauline sat in the chair with her eyes close, "Imagine the creature you want to be. Start with the smaller features."

Pauline felt small whiskers grow from her cheeks and claws form from her nails. She tried to form a nose, but the stress was too much and released from her hold. She caught her breath and held her head. The Transfiguration professor held stern look.

"Miss Bridgewell, we have been meeting for the past 4 sessions and you have yet to pass the first stage of Animagolgy. I have a hard time believing that you are willing to take this seriously," the professor said as she took her seat in front of her. With quill in hand, she started taking notes over Pauline's clear failure. Already a month into the school year and she was falling even more behind. It didn't help that quidditch season was going to be starting soon. Things with Shri had gotten worst too. Abigail and Cecelia weren't helping much either trying to get the two of them to talk even though it was clear that Shri didn't care about her. Luckily the feeling was mutual.

"Are you going to write my parents about this, Professor?" Pauline asked as finally met the older woman's gaze. She had waited for the lowest blow to be delivered to her.

"Miss Bridgewell," Professor McGonagall started as she removed her glasses, "As much as it seems necessary to get your parents involved, I'm afraid it would not be the right course of action at this moment."

She was shocked.

"What do you mean, Professor?" she asked.

"I am under the impression that there is a lot more going on than just mere issues with school," Professor McGonagall commented as she waved her wand for the tea to be poured, "I see potential in you, Miss Bridgewell. Maybe I should have waited another year for you to mature before teaching you these things."

The room went silent for a minutes as the tea was served to each individual.

"I'm sorry for disappointing you, Professor McGonagall," Pauline said, "Just give me one more chance."

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After yawning through Magical Theory, the brown haired girl made her way the quidditch field where Cedric Diggory had a chalk board full of new drills that they were going to unleash this year. Once the team took to the sky there was no holding back. Pauline could feel free for the first time in a long time. This had been what she had been missing the most. On the back of her broomstick she was able to be away from all those annoying responsibilities and just take to the sky. If it weren't for the bludger whipping past her head, she might have forgotten that she was at practice.

"Come on, Bridgewell," Tony Rickett smirked, "Let's get these drills done."

The clean-cut brunette fourth year boy somehow grew this habit of reminding her of what she needed to be doing. This past month he had caught her in the common room still up working on her homework. If it weren't for his help, she would have barely past her first exams of the year. He was pretty much just keeping her on her toes. Back and forth the bludger went between the two. It was going to be hard for them this year being the youngest beaters in the entire school. Time flew by as they ran drill after drill with Cedric yelling out pointers to each of the players. Sweat was running down Pauline's face as she imagined the bludger being Shri's snob face with every whack. At one point, the little beast went flying into the stands nearly taking out some of the Gryffindor team while the waited to use the field. Almost taking out Oliver Wood to her embarrassment. This was when Cedric had decided that it was time Gryffindor had the field. Pauline felt so embarrassed about nearly knocking out the seventh year she had had a crush on for so long she wanted to just hide her locker forever. Luckily the Gryffindor's captain did not feel a need to yell at her for negligence.

"Good arm," he simply said to her with a smile that made all the blood rush to her face at once.

"Good arm!" Abagail blasted as she laughed at Pauline's story, "That's rich! You nearly knock him out and all he says is 'Good arm.'"

"Oh stop it Abby," Cecelia said as she consoled her friend, "Pauline has had a rough. The least we can do is try to support her."

"Sorry Paulie," the chubby Gryffindor chuckled as she tried to keep her laughter to a minimum, "But that is bloody brilliant. Not only is he the boy you've been swooning over since he caught you from falling down some stairs, but you've managed to make a lasting impression on him. Good job, mate."

"I just want to throw myself at the whomping willow and hope it gives amnesia so I can't even remember my first name."

A group of giggles followed next to their table as Shri and the Patel twins sat down to study in the Great Hall. It was like she was taunting Pauline. She was rubbing it in her face that she was doing a lot better in school than her for many reasons. The rest of the Indian entourage showed up as they started trading notes around as well as snicker amongst themselves. It was pretty obvious they were making comments about Pauline and she wasn't going to deal with this. With the slam of her book, she began to gather her things.

"Where are you going?" Abigal asked.

"I need to study for McGonagall," she simply said, "I need to peace in order to concentrate."

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She closed her eyes as she focused on her breathing. She had to get past the first stage. She was going to prove that she was good enough to have these lessons. The whiskers slowly formed on her face and the claws grew from her fingers. Now it was time for the nose.

"Working hard?" a voice said snapping her back to reality.

"Oh you arse," Pauline said to her fellow Hufflepuff.

Tony laughed as his fellow Hufflepuff turned to whack him on the shoulder. He threw himself in the seat next to her, pulling out a chocolate bar for his robe pocket and offered her a piece.

"Ummm… thank you?" and took the piece from his hand.

"What are you working on there, Bridgewell?" he asked as he picks up her journal.

"Lessons!" she cried trying to get it back, hoping that he didn't spot the heart doodles on the side with her initials with another famous school keeper.

"Take long deep breathes," he began to read, "Concentrate on the beast within. What class is this for?"

"They're for private lessons."

"Private lessons?" He winked and wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"Really?"

He laughed making his green eyes tickle as they always do. There was always a warmth feeling Pauline would get whenever she was around him. He was one of the first Hufflepuffs she made friends with during their first year before meeting the others. He was the reason she tried out for the quidditch team.

Tony hands her back her journal with their fingers brushing against each other. He took hold of hers a little bit longer making her look up into his eye. There was a slight lingering feeling and longing to close the distance between the two before a group of students passed by them. He seemed to somewhat pulling her in closer, before a familiar voice jerked her head away.

"Hey Bridgewell," spoke the boy with the lightning bolt scar, "Detention is in 10 minutes. Don't want to be late."

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Labeling potions was probably not as bad as cleaning cauldrons, but it was pretty dull.

"So you're a beater?" Harry asked after Professor Snape had left them.

"It kind of runs in the family," Pauline replied as she wrote out a label, "My father was one for Hogwarts same as his father. We span about four generations if you include myself."

"Must be nice," he said, "Knowing those type of things."

"I'm sure you must know something about your family."

He shook his head as he placed the label on a vile.

"Oh." There was that awkwardness again. She had to change the subject.

"How about that Professor Lupin?" her voice trembled, "Quite a character he is with his scars. Maybe he has like a dark past where he worked in an illegal dragon ring in Cambodia."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the Hufflepuff.

"Do they have dragon rings?"

"My grandfather used to do work in the Minster of Magic in their department of magical creatures. Used to tell us stories on all the illegal dragon trades that would go on in Africa," Pauline explain as she let her writing hand rest for a while, "They'd sell scales, teeth, claws, even smaller dragons as exotic pets, but he said the worst were to see the dragon fights. Poor things. Their handlers would have them fight till the death."

"I had no idea," the Gryffindor replied.

"How many more of these bottles do we have to label?" she asked realizing that the conversation was just as depressing.

"Are you always like this?" he asked bluntly.

"Like what?"

"Adverting from one conversation to the next?"

"I guess so," she muttered, "I'm not really good at dealing with problems head on."

He nodded and turn to count how many potions they had left. This was so awkward.