Hermione wasn't joking. Throughout the last weeks of October and the beginning of November, we study together. Mostly we spend time at tables in the library, but if the weather isn't too bad sometimes we will study on the lawn. The pair of us aren't friends by any means; I couldn't tell you if she's an only child or what her favourite subject is, or any fact. Certainly, I bet she could tell you what my full first name is, but not much else.

Mostly, we do flashcards. She's good at theory, great even, but I realize it comes from a work ethic even more diligent than mine. Hermione is skilled at thinking. Unlike me, her mind isn't exactly suited to innovation. Whenever we give examples of the application of certain spells or potions, she always lists the ones in the textbook. I suppose that she's never had to find clever ways to work around her magical abilities like I have.

It gives me a bit of confidence at least. Grades are everything to people like Hermione and me. All the same, there is some satisfaction I get when I suggest that a practical use of the Dancing Feet spell could be used to detangle a knot in a headphone cord.

"It only works on things with legs," Hermione points to the line in our charms textbook.

I shrug, "there is not really any reason that it wouldn't work on a tangled cord. It works on inanimate objects, right, so long as they have legs? A chair doesn't really have biological legs – it's just what we call them. Besides, it can't be that it only works on things that hold an object up from the ground because it works on birds in flight. I don't see why an adept spellcaster couldn't use it on a tangled cord, or at least modify the spell for that use."

Hermione hums but moves on. I smile. She struggles with anything that isn't explicitly laid out in a textbook. If it weren't for her passion for freeing House Elves from enslavement, I might imagine her brain isn't capable of critical thought.

It's for that reason I don't ask her for help with the Sagum. I'm unsure how my occlumency is going, but one day, the Sagum stops spinning. The ball drops from the air, only held up by the thin metal chain. I flick the ball around the metal base of the Sagum. The chain makes it wrap around.

I don't know what I've done, but I worry I might have dropped all magic from it. This was my last ditch effort to get it to work, and the magic was experimental. At least, I think the tie it has to my mind must be stronger, in whatever way I can get it to improve. Professor Babbling lets me borrow her equipment on Friday since she doesn't want me alone in her office over the whole weekend. The whole experience is exhausting.

Though I am not gifted in the arts of Divination, I have a feeling that today is going to be the last weekend I can tolerate sitting outside without having on a cloak for the winter weather. So, I camp out. I go down into the small building where they store the boats next to the Great Lake. The glass walls make me feel outside. With me, I've brought a lunch and enough activities to keep me pleased for the entire day.

In the morning, I try to do oil pastels of the water, but I'm just as shit as ever. At least it helps me start to be creative. I'd rather read one of the muggle books my Mum sent me in advance of my birthday. She always thinks the owl will take longer to get here than it does. After an hour, I try to sketch out what I want my actual symbol to me. It's time I decide one, since I've been putting it off for the better part of a year. My initials aren't a powerful symbol, since I imagine so many people are named Marty Turner.

Creating a symbol is not all too complicated. Professor Babbling even gave me the paperwork I need so that I can send it into the ministry once it's done so no other wizard or witch accidentally takes it.

A shadow falls over my page. I only glance up to see the shoes. Shined, expensive looking. I try not to smile.

"Perhaps I should send you a letter every morning with my whereabouts," I smile, looking up at Draco Malfoy. "How long have you been looking for me today?"

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