Chapter 4: Transfiguration Nightmare

I mean, I knew my first lesson back to Transfiguration would be rough but I wasn't expecting it to be quite so… bad.

After what ended up being a pretty decent morning in Potions – and definitely a better one than I had feared it would be - I was lulled into a false sense of security going into Transfiguration.

See, Transfiguration has never been my strong suit. I can Charm the pants off anything and I've got a right good hand for Potions. It might sound like bragging, but Alice really wasn't exaggerating when she said I'm top of classes in seventh year. It's the truth, plain and simple.

Except.

Except when it comes to Transfiguration.

It's not like I don't try, either! Merlin knows I try! But something about the hand movements and the brain power or something behind the spells really doesn't agree with me and my wand.

Here's the secret. I only got an A on my Transfiguration OWL. Professor McGonagall, lovely woman, usually only takes E or O students. But I'm dead set on being an Auror and Aurors need Transfiguration for whatever the reason. (Really, what can Transfiguration do that a good strong Charm or perfectly brewed potion can't?). So I begged and pleaded with McGonagall at the beginning of last year and she let me in with strict instructions to study extra and the firm conviction that if I wasn't showing more aptitude for the subject this year, she would let me go. I guess I did alright enough on sixth year exams since Professor McGonagall didn't drop me right away, but now I'm worried that summer holidays stole everything I did pick up in class last year. And I wouldn't put it past McGonagall to drop me after the first lesson this year if it goes poorly.

McGonagall welcomes us back with that same no-nonsense demeanor she's sported since day one of first year. "Seventh year Transfiguration may be one of the hardest classes you'll take," she informs us, peering down through her glasses. "As such, I expect you to be diligent in your classwork and homework. Practicing spells solely in class will not result in your success. NEWT Transfiguration students must put the time and effort into this class if they expect good marks on their exams at the end of the year."

I gulp.

Like Slughorn in Potions, McGonagall uses today to refresh our skills from last year. We're each given a rooster and the simple instructions to change it into a cat and back again before she lets us loose.

I remember the spell, but can't quite recall the hand movement. Was there a twist in the wrist? Clockwise? Counter-clockwise? Or maybe it was more of a flicking motion…

I glance around surreptitiously to see if anyone else is struggling, but everyone has set to work with their roosters, and soon the room is more full of the hissing of angry cats than clucking roosters. Emmeline and Marlene, of course, have pulled the spell off without a hitch, but even Alice doesn't pause to change feathers to fur. Potter and Black seem to be in some kind of competition in who can perform the spell quickest, and their poor animals flicker and flash far too rapidly in front of them.

See, this is my issue with Transfiguration! When on Earth am I going to desperately need a cat and think, man, I'm sure glad I've got this random rooster on hand I can transfigure! Seriously. Give me one plausible situation. I dare you. Plus, I'm sure my rooster is more than happy being a rooster. No one ever asked him if he would rather be a cat.

I lean down so I'm eye level with the bird. "Hey," I whisper, real soft. "Sorry. But you've got to be a cat, just for a moment. Just work with me, okay? 'Cause I'm not actually one hundred percent sure what I'm doing, so all the help you can offer is great."

The rooster just stares back at me with a shiny, black, stupid eye. His head bobs a couple of times, though, so I guess I'll take that as encouragement. I take a deep breath and decide to go with a counter-clockwise wrist flick. "Mutatio felis."

There's a moment of relief as the rooster's neck shrinks and a long tail grows and tabby-striped fur replaces the iridescent feathers and I'm thinking, gee, I remembered more from last year than I thought! But the smugness rapidly disappears as my rooster-turned-cat starts to grow. And grow. And pretty soon I've got a tabby the size of the Great Danes our neighbors back home keep. And while its growth rate has slowed, it hasn't stopped.

"Ah, right." I say nervously. "Um, Professor…?" The cat hisses and the sound is SO loud and I catch a glimpse of teeth as long as my fingers. "Professor!"

The hiss alerts my classmates and a couple people shriek when they see my now Bengal-sized monster strolling down the aisle, none too pleased that he's had to endure a Transfiguration lesson today. Marlene looks torn between laughter and panic while Alice has risen from her chair and backed away cautiously. She's not alone. Most of the class are out of their seats, getting hastily out of the cat's way.

Professor McGonagall, however, just sighs like she expected as much. With a quick, nonverbal flick of her wand, the cat shrinks back to proper size. The class lets out a collective sigh. Another flick and I've got my rooster back. I scoop it off the floor and return it to my desk.

"Miss Evans, please see me after class."

Despair floods my body but I nod, ignoring the titters and whispers of the class around me. Carol Robins, who I have had the misfortune of sharing a dormitory with for the last six years, smirks at me. I put my head down on the desk and look my rooster in the eye again.

"You," I say, "were no help."

Thirty much less eventful minutes later (due mostly to the fact we took notes for the rest of the lesson and I didn't have to lift my wand again), the bell rings and all the students buzz with laughter and talk that they've restrained all lesson, packing quills and parchment and books back into their bags.

"Do you want me to stay?" Alice asks.

"Nah," I say miserably. "I'll catch up with you in Runes."

She nods and shoots me one last sympathetic glance before heading for the door.

"Mr. Potter?" McGonagall says as the Marauders also make to leave. "Could I have a word with you?"

"But I didn't do anything today, Professor." Potter looks completely bewildered. I don't miss the slight emphasis on "today", but McGonagall ignores it.

"As comforting as that may be, I still would like to speak with you. Your friends can get along without you for a moment."

I'm bewildered too. Does McGonagall remember that she was already talking to me? Merlin, she wasn't going to lecture me in front of Potter, was she? Gah…

The door shuts behind Black and finally it's just me, Potter, and McGonagall alone in the Transfiguration classroom. Doesn't that sound like the coziest little meeting?

Potter lingers by McGonagall's desk, though I'm still sitting at mine.

"Up here, Evans," McGonagall directs.

I gather up my bag and go to stand by her desk as well, determinedly not looking at Potter. I guess I will be lectured in front of him.

"It seems," McGonagall says, "that you still have much to learn, Miss Evans."

"I practiced and studied over the summer, honest, Professor!"

"I don't doubt that, but you need far more than a few independent practice sessions to keep up in this class. I'm serious when I say this will be a difficult year."

"I can do better, work harder. Please just let me stay." I'm trying my best to beg without really begging. It's not working. "I need this class." Potter shifts next to me, clearly feeling uncomfortable. I'm just unsure why he's here.

"I'm not kicking you out, Miss Evans."

"You're not?" I blink at McGonagall in surprise. She shakes her head. "Oh, thank you! I'll practice every night, I'll do whatever it takes –"

"That you will." McGonagall nods. Finally, she turns to Potter. "Potter, part of your Head duties, as we discussed this morning, is tutoring. Evans, meet your new Transfiguration tutor. Potter, your student."

My jaw drops. She is not doing this to me.

"Oh!" Potter says. Then he looks at me, grinning. "Hey Evans. Nice to meet you. I'm James, your Transfiguration tutor."

"I know who you are, Potter." I snap. He winks.

"I expect you to meet at least once a week for a full hour." McGonagall's words are directed at me, I can tell by the way she looks at me as she speaks, ignoring Potter again. "Although I would daresay meeting more than once a week would be better."

I fume silently.

"And Miss Evans, this is your last chance. I expect progress." The 'or else' hangs unspoken in the air and I know she's serious. I progress in Transfiguration or I'm out before Christmas holidays.

"Understood," I mumble.

She nods. "I'll see you both on Monday."

Potter and I leave Transfiguration together. We're quiet. I can't wait to get rid of him – lunch next, and then I'm off to Ancient Runes with Alice, and Potter will go to Arithmancy with Emmeline. My Potter quota has been more than filled today.

The prat is practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he walks, but I'm so furious I can barely walk in a straight line. I can't believe we're not even twenty-four hours into the start of term and I've already found out I've been saddled to Potter as my fellow Head, gotten into not one, but two rows with him,and now been assigned to him as my tutor of all things. It's absolutely ridiculous.

"Now," he says, as we turn into the Great Hall, "I really am going to have a hard time staying out of your way."

And before I can snap out a retort, he skips off to join Black, Remus, and Pettigrew.

The rest of the day passes blissfully Potter-free. Even though I have two free periods in the afternoon, I'm exhausted by the time we reach dinner; I spent both the open hours trying – and failing – to independently work on my Transfiguration to prove that I really, really didn't need to use Potter for a tutor. Alice, who had a free period with me after we left Runes, laughed and rolled her eyes at me.

"Really, Lils, you definitely need a tutor."

"But do I?" I whine. I'm attempting a Color-Changing Spell (admittedly, a little ambitious since, you know, green skin in last year's final exam and all), trying to get the fingernails on my left hand to turn purple like I've painted them with nail varnish. I remember the spell just fine, but my nails stay resolutely plain.

Alice raises her eyebrows, like, do I really need to answer that?

"Come on, Alice, let me try on you," I wheedle. "Maybe if I'm not trying on myself."

Alice snorts. "Heck no! I don't want to end up with permanently green hair or something." She tucks a stray short lock of dark blonde behind her ear and holds up our Ancient Runes textbook. "Besides, I'm working on our Runes assignment, so leave me be."

"You've got all weekend for that!" School, wildly, started on a Friday this year. I guess when you're a magic school, and the only one in Great Britain, you can do what you want, but sometimes I think that Hogwarts's September first start date could use a little less whimsy and a little more practicality.

"I want to get a head start!"

"Yeah, that and you don't want to help me with Transfiguration," I retort.

"Yeah, that too. But you've got James for that now."

"Agh..."

But no matter how hard I try, I get no further in my independent Transfiguration practice, not even when I pore over my textbook in bed all Friday evening. I get totally lost in the distinctions between wand flicks and rolls, and all the clockwise-counterclockwise babble.

I slam the book shut in frustration, causing Emmeline, reading at her desk next to my bed, to jump. She lectures me on interrupting her study time and leaves to finish her work in the library where it's actually quiet. I apologize but barely register her irritation. I'm too busy drowning in despair.

Potter really is going to have to tutor me.

I'm lying on top of my bed, contemplating my upsetting fate and wondering how I'm even going to survive that first tutoring session (at least without murdering Potter or bringing the whole library down around us) when Carol waltzes in, Mary trailing behind her like the faithful little shadow she is.

"If it isn't Lily Evans, disaster Head Girl and absolute Transfiguration failure," Carol says.

"Wow, what a way to greet someone, Carol," I say, sitting up. "No 'hi, how was your summer, nice to see you again'? Just going to jump straight to insults? Fantastic. So glad this is our last year together."

She smirks at me, setting her school bag down on her bed, the one nearest the door. Mary does the same, depositing her books on the bed next to Carol's before settling in at her desk, turning her back on Carol and me.

"What'd McGonagall say after class today? She finally going to kick you out of Transfiguration?" Carol comes over to my bed, leaning against one of the posts. Her long shiny brown hair smells freshly washed, like vanilla, like she didn't spend all day tromping around a gigantic castle to go to classes.

"No," I say shortly. I don't want to discuss how close Professor McGonagall is to kicking me out, or how my continuation in Transfiguration is solely dependent on unreliable, untrustworthy Potter.

"She should have," Carol says. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone mess up that bad. Honestly, between that and the scene you made after dinner last night, I don't know how you're expecting to be able to keep your Head Girl status, let alone a spot in Transfiguration. That rooster spell was sixth year review. What are you going to do when we actually start on the hard stuff?"

"James is tutoring her, didn't you hear?" Mary says suddenly, looking up from her desk.

Carol and I both look at her in surprise.

"He didn't say anything to me," Carol says.

"How did you know that?" I ask Mary.

"Oh... umm... Marlene told me. In Muggle Studies this afternoon..." she trails off, already looking like she regrets speaking up. "She was just saying she was relieved you got to keep going in Transfiguration, even if it did mean you'd have to work with James..." She glances guiltily at Carol and goes back to her schoolwork.

Hmph. Leave it to Marlene to already be spreading the news. Love that girl, but she has far too many friends to get chatty with.

Carol stares at the back of Mary's head a moment more before turning back to me. "And you're really going to put up working with James – one on one – for the rest of the year? You can't stand him." She says it skeptically, but one sharp fingernail taps anxiously on my bedpost.

I cringe at the thought of having to meet with Potter for the entire year. Merlin, I think I might kill myself – or him – before we even hit second term.

"Yeah, well, Professor McGonagall didn't really give me much of a choice," I say. "Trust me, I'm not vying for your man or whatever, if that's what you're worried about." I shudder at the thought. "You can keep him."

But instead of the triumphant smile I'm expecting, Carol flinches. She glares and without another words, whips back out of the dormitory, leaving her school bag and Mary behind, and I'm left staring at the spot Carol had been standing.

Mary slowly turns back around, the movement loud in the silence Carol's departure left behind. "James broke up with her over the summer." Then she too rises and walks out of the dormitory, though with much less dramatics than Carol had, leaving me alone.

Oh.

Oops.