Allison grinned at her professor while still swatting at the annoying flies. Looking at her two butterflies Allison remembered her mother. The way she teased Allison about her obsessive gaming with her brother, the way she ate chocolates every morning with her, the way she would shriek out of her head when Allison came in with a bump on her head from a Quidditch game gone wrong, and the way she scolded her whenever Allison did something to her brother.

With warmth in her chest she brought the picture of her butterfly in her mind, stood up, swished her wand, and said, "Papilio!"

Immediately a swarm of mid-night blue butterflies erupted from her wand. Allison had seen nothing like it before. Soon enough they trampled over the flies and the pesky things disappeared.

Grinning at what she now called her masterpiece, Allison sighed with content. On her next letter she'd send her mother a butterfly. Surely she'd appreciate the butterfly as much as she appreciated her mothers. The only difference was that her mom had transfigured her tissue with tears into a butterfly, and Allison had cast it out of thin air. Perhaps that's why her mother's had been so alluring, because it carried the love a mother had for her child.