 Wowza!
Professor Pickle (because that's what he heard) reminded Ian of Mrs. Mason, his old neighbor, and someone who reminded the boy of that old lady was someone that should never be trusted. All that ... perkiness. Not natural. He was convinced that behind every perky old lady was hidden something dangerous.
At least she'd not yet called him Spawn of the Devil; that was always a plus.
Feeling slightly on edge, Ian retrieved his wand from inside his school bag and listened to the incantation his classmates were repeating like parrots. Well, that sounded easy enough, did it not? Ian repeated the word several times under his breath until he felt sure that it was deeply carved on his brain.
It should be easy now, right?
Wrong.
It took the boy fifteen tries and fifteen mental bad words that went with each time he failed, to actually get it right. And, even then, his butterflies weren't nearly as ... easy on the eye as his classmates' were.
Oh, well. He didn't even like butterflies anyway.
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