Out on our way to Transfiguration through the flagstone corridors, Bran nudged me with his elbow. "You okay, Rollie? Why the long face?"

"Yeah, I think so," I sighed. "I'm bummed. Everything seemed to be going well, and now I feel like I'm in trouble again."

"I don't know about that, Professor Shacklebolt didn't seem to be too upset."

"Well, I have a favor to ask you, would you be willing, after classes are done for the day, of course, to wait outside the room, y' know, in case anything, uh,"

"Don't worry, Rollie, no need to explain. I'll be there," Bran patted my back.

"Thanks," I flashed a quick smile and pretended as if the conversation didn't happen as we walked into Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.

I had an opportunity to sit next to Bran, and behind our table, sat Edna and Daphne. The four of us were at the center, and before class started, we settled in our seats and pulled out our wands and books.

"…I really think the Chudley Cannons are a shoo-in to win the League Cup this year…"

My head spun towards the direction of the conversation. A tall, muscular guy with flowing curly auburn hair was chatting with a slender blonde kid with short hair. Both of them were dressed in Gryffindor robes.

"The Ballycastle Bats and Tutshill Tornados, I think, will be the only teams giving them any sort of trouble," the muscular guy said with a deep voice, then he glowered at me. "Aye, whatcha' lookin' at me for?"

My leg twitch. "Uh, nothing, I just overheard your conversation and I just got excited that you were talking about Quidditch."

"You just always stare at strangers like that? Didn't you learn any manners in America?" him and his friend snickered.

"I just wanted to offer my opinion that—"

"I don't care about your opinion," he grinned. "What does an American have to say about the British and Irish Quidditch league?"

"I'm actually a close follower of the British and Irish League. Some people in the States follow it, my favorite team is—"

"Still don't care," him and his friend busted out laughing.

"Oliver! Leave him alone!" a girl that was sitting next to him slapped him on the shoulder.

"Aye, he's a big boy, he can fend for himself. Just givin' 'em a rough time. Nothin' personal, right, yankee?"

"Oliver!" the girl jumped out of her seat and drew her wand at him.

"Magdalene, darling, put the wand down. Whattya care so much?" he stretched out his hand, leaning back in his chair.

"Because, I don't want to date someone who hurls around ignorant remarks, leave him alone. He hasn't bothered anyone! So what, he likes Quidditch, make a friend! Apologize!"

"Absolutely not," his jaw dropped. "Have you gone mad?"

Magdalene gave him a death stare, which made her brown eyes look like fireballs. The whole class was silent. My heart galloped.

"S'alright, no need to worry about it, I can handle some ribbing, I get it," I gave an awkward smile and wave, hoping like hell it would deescalate the situation.

Professor McGonagall stormed into the classroom. Magdalene slipped down in her chair, still glaring at Oliver. I thought maybe McGonagall heard the conversation, but she stood in front of the class and flashed a smile.

"Good morning class, many of you are already aware the fifth year is challenging since we are preparing for the O.W.L's. Today I'd like to refresh our memories on a basic lesson to ease into the semester. A guinea fowl to guinea pig. Let me know if you need any help, but please give it an honest effort before asking."

The rest of the class worked amongst themselves. Daphne and Edna were able to flick their wrist with their wand, whisper the incantation: Guineas-fur, and then they each had a fuzzy guinea pig crawling around their desk. It took Bran two tries, but I didn't have such luck.

Third time's a charm, right?

Sigh.

I couldn't help but laugh. By the fourth time, my guinea pig still had feathers attached to him. I could change it back to a guinea fowl just fine, but the end result kept turning into an abomination.

Observing the rest of the room, I noticed I wasn't the only one having trouble, half of the class struggled. My eyes landed on Magdalene before I realized I shouldn't even stare in that direction. She was already marveling at her guinea pig. Oliver wasn't even close to changing his guinea fowl correctly. I silently rejoiced.

As the class period came to a close, I turned my guinea fowl into a guinea pig. Everyone else sat silently next to their guinea pig, but I let mine crawl on my hand and to my other hand, using my arms and shoulders as its bridge. It kept going back-and-forth. I was giggling to myself.

"Rollie, class is over," Bran said, pushing in his chair.

"Oh, sorry, I must have gotten carried away, that's all," I grinned back at the guinea pig, which leaned its head closer. "I'll see you later, Tulip."

"Who's Tulip?" Bran asked.

"Just the name of my guinea pig," I chuckled.

"You named your guinea pig?" Daphne asked.

"Yeah, I guess I just got a little carried away. We were having fun there," I shrugged.

The four of us gathered together and walked down the corridor, where a familiar-looking courtyard was to my left.

That's where Leon summoned the troll.

"Come along, Rollie," Daphne said as they had already walked ahead of me.

It was a short route to Charms with Professor Flitwick. He was in the room right next to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Edna and I sat next to each other while Bran and Daphne were to our left. We sat directly in front. On the other side of our row, four Ravenclaws took a seat.

"That's Layla Moors sitting at the end," Edna whispered.

"What's the deal with her?" I said.

"She's the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. Ravenclaw is our heated rival in Quidditch, but for Daphne and Layla, the rival goes a little deeper than that."

"Speaking of Quidditch, what was up with that jerk-bag, Oliver?"

Edna rolled her eyes. "He's the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, he thinks he's so good, but as much as it pains me to say it, he is that good. Like, he's so good that he gets scouted by other professional Quidditch teams. Definitely the best player in Hogwarts."

"Great," I sighed.

"Do you play Quidditch, Rollie?"

"Uh, uh, I used to," I rubbed my shoulder and fixed my eyes on the table. "I was okay. So uh, do you like this class?"

"Oh yeah, even though Ravenclaw is our rival, I do like their head professor very much! Flitwick is a great teacher."

The last few stragglers came in the classroom, Professor Flitwick rushed in. He stood on top of a stool in front of the class, as he was shorter than everyone else.

"Hello, class. I hope your first day back has been treating you all rather well. As I'm sure most teachers today have been going over reviews, we will be doing the same for the whole week as a matter of fact," Flitwick had a gentler voice than the other teachers. I felt my shoulders at ease for the first time.

"First, though, I'd like to have a little fun with our two over-excited academics. I'm guessing they've already memorized the syllabus," he chuckled and pointed at Daphne and Layla. "I'll say the number, one of you will say the subject in order of what's planned for the year. Ready? Number one."

"Banishing Charm!" both of them yelled at the exact same moment.

"Number two."

"Severing Charm!" they said.

"Number three."

"Summoning Charm!"

This went on and on and on and on.

"And lastly, twenty-one!"

"Lumos Maxima!" only Layla Moors said it.

Daphne looked like a short-circuited robot.

"So… the win goes to Layla, but don't worry, Daphne, that was extraordinary and impressive," Flitwick beamed. "Both of you should be proud, albeit, it's very unnecessary to remember the syllabus since I don't ask, but yet here you two are. Ten points to Ravenclaw and ten points to Hufflepuff. So much attention to something so trivial is respectable."

The corner of Daphne's mouth twitched.

"Don't worry, Daphne, there will be other chances for competition over the school year. Let's talk about O.W.L.'s.

"Please remember that these examinations may influence your futures for many years to come! If you have not already given serious thought to your careers, now is the time to do so. And in the meantime, I'm afraid we shall be working harder than ever to ensure that you all do yourselves justice! But first, we will review the fourth year charms for the first couple of weeks. Some of you will be proficient, but I want to make sure everyone is at the same level before we further our learning."

Edna and I practiced our Summoning Charm and Banishing Charm with our textbook, like a game of catch. However, my banishing attempts only caused the book to jolt a few centimeters at a time. The summoning charm yielded the same results, only inching closer to me with each try. It was a long class period.

After charms, we spent a few moments out in the corridor looking out at the fountain courtyard. Our next class was potions with the Slytherins again, but we could sit with our respective houses. Trickling in, Professor Mortitch was already standing at the front of the room, a tall, pale woman with thin blonde hair.

"Hello, class," her voice was quiet and raspy as if she'd been screaming her larynx off the day before. "You're in for a significant year at Hogwarts. Preparing for the O.W.L.'s. Not to mention, we have the current behavior of the Forbidden Forest. We will be working hard on our standard curriculum for the fifth year, but we will also include experimental potion-making that might help us determine what's happening with the forest since it's a relatively new phenomenon.

"What exactly that will consist of, I'm not sure, there's still much that us professors need to prepare. For now, we are going to focus on what will be covered in the examinations. I just wanted to keep you aware in case we pivot at any point."

It was the first class in which we didn't go over a review from last year's lessons, and we started with the new curriculum right away: the Draught of Peace, a potion that relieves anxiety and agitation. All hour the class struggled with creating anything remotely resembling the elixir. Except for one person who mixed it together as if she was just pouring milk in a bowl of cereal: Daphne.