Mystique → Hermione Granger [2] ✔

I 15 I Hope(less)

~*~

Talking to Moaning Myrtle was becoming increasingly difficult; students were not permitted to wander off on their own since teachers were very strict about supervision. They couldn't even go to the bathroom without a Professor trailing after them. It had been hard enough trying to look for spiders. If only they could slip past Professor McGonagall and make a beeline for the girls' bathroom. Azkaban seemed easier to escape from, grumbled Alexander inwardly.

Yet, Alexander had other topics on his mind as well as Moaning Myrtle. He couldn't stop thinking about his display of magic in the forest and with Malfoy. The next morning, Harry had curiously asked Alexander in the Great Hall how he did it. Alexander hadn't any more knowledge than Harry. He couldn't explain it. How did that fire come out of his wand when he hadn't even said anything? It wasn't natural.

Instead of scaring him, it baffled Alexander. It wasn't dangerous by any means. But why couldn't he do it now? Technically speaking, he couldn't conjure the wandless fire, not even when he concentrated. He had picked up his wand and focused hard on the image of a fire. But nothing came out. Did it only occur when he was in danger? Alexander wondered if the wandless spells appeared when he was truly angry, like when Malfoy spoke about Hermione. But in the forest, he had been more afraid of the spiders rather than angry. So, perhaps it was linked to his emotions?

Alexander didn't understand and desperately wanted to write to his grandfather, asking for his opinion. Well, maybe he shouldn't tell him everything, per se, just about his weird one-time ability. Alexander may not know where he stood with Grandfather – he was still unsettled about his beliefs regarding Muggleborns – but if anyone knew anything, Grandfather would.

Alexander tried to sneak away to the Owlery (his letter written already) and send Apollo off, but he was caught by Professor Flitwick, who was passing in a deserted corridor. Alexander bit his tongue before he could curse out loud. Instead, he was forced to lie and say that he was going to the toilet. Except in the case of urgent messages, letters were barred from being sent unless a Professor was notified. Alexander didn't fancy telling Flitwick what his letter contained – he'd probably sound weird anyway.

For now, like the other students, he was stuck going to his classes.

In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall distracted the class for a moment by announcing that their exams would start on the first of June. As the class groaned in disbelief and annoyance, Alexander glanced up and frowned, putting his thoughts on hold. The end-of-year exams hadn't occurred to him until now, and he believed them to not take place in these conditions.

Professor McGonagall scowled darkly as mutinous murmuring broke out. 'Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible. And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year.'

Alexander crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, the slippers he had transfigured from white rabbits sitting on his desk. Having been distracted for a while, he had not been studying properly. Yet, he felt pretty confident that he'd pass his exams; he wouldn't do the best he could, but it would be satisfactory. That was enough for him, for now, at least. It wasn't his OWLs so he wasn't going to lose any sleep over it.