We walk into Transfiguration and I begin to feel itchy. Not like skin-crawling-want-to-scratch-it itchy, but more like I-wish-I-wasn’t-here-and-instead-with-Janie itchy. I wiggle in my seat some and Crabbe looks at me stupidly.

“What?” I hiss.

“You’re moving.”

“No, I’m staying still - your eyes are just watching me so intensely you think I’m moving.”

He looks at me again, a weird expression on his face. He doesn’t get it.

“Settle down, class,” McGonagall barks, and we fall silent. She gives a curt nod, her outward sign of appreciation, and begins the lesson. “Today we will be discussing Ilarantia, also known as the transformation of land to water. You will each be given a jar of dirt and clay. I will show you three times how to perform the spell, so I expect you to take notes. After that, you can try it on your own. I will walk around the classroom to assist you.”

I pull out parchment and a quill and pretend to scribble down notes. My eyes glaze over and I find myself thinking of the first time I met Janie.

“Come on, Goyle. We’re going to be late. He doesn’t like it when we’re late,” Draco hissed as we sped through the Grounds.

I stared at him, deciding whether or not I’d fight back. I gave in. “We still have an hour.”

He whipped around and then pinned me up against a wall. His wand was under my chin and his eyes were showing signs of fury. I was stronger than him, but when his buttons were pressed not many would dare to come near.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

Before he could say anything else, however, a small voice slashed through the silence. “Hello? Is everything all right over there?”

Draco shoved himself off of me, turning to face a girl probably two years younger than us. She had dark brown hair and emerald eyes that radiated. Since the moment I saw her, all breath had escaped from me.

Nothing similar could be said for Draco, though. He lost his angry demeanor and instead filled himself with a more arrogant one. “Who are you?”

Her eyes grazed over Draco then slowly met mine. I felt myself shudder.

To my surprise, she walked over to me, never once breaking eye contact. She stood just inches in front of me and ran her smooth fingers across my neck. I didn’t know what to think until she whispered, “Does it hurt?”

“What?” I asked, flabbergasted, but as she removed her hand I felt the pounding pain of where Draco had previously enforced so much pressure.

“That,” she grimaced. “I’m Janie.”

“Goyle,” I responded. “And that’s Draco.”

She looked at him for a moment, then turned her attention back to me. I knew he wouldn’t like that.

“How are you doing, Mr. Goyle?” McGonagall asks as she stands in front of me. I jump slightly, then look down ay my parchment. Nothing is there.

I search for a way to get out of conjuring the spell, but I see no open possibilities. Therefore, I decide I might as well try - no one is expecting me to succeed.

I clear my throat rather loudly and say, “Ilarantia,” with an odd wand movement. I try to copy what I had seen McGonagall do, but it is pointless, as I wasn’t paying too much attention. I squint at my jar as Malfoy laughs at me - he likes watching me fail. However, as I turn to look at him, the smile falls off of his face and McGonagall gives a short nod. She appears a little surprised about something, but I don’t know what.

“Good job, Mr. Goyle. Five points to Slytherin for being the first in the class to do the transformation properly.”

I shake my head frantically, thinking I must be going crazy. I have never won anything in my life, especially for my house. When the newfound whiplash subsides, I stare at my jar, and sure enough, it is full with water.

Crabbe smiles really big at me. “I’m thirsty.”

I pass him the jar and watch him drink it down.