meant to be (2)

13

We traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash and then the Gryffindors hurried off to Transfiguration.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was especially difficult.

"Harry, you're supposed to do magic!" I said, observing the boy who struggled with transfiguring his beetle into a button.

"Thanks for the information, Jules, I didn't know" he answered sarcastically, still smiling at me.

Ron was having far worse problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it seemed to be damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick grey smoke which smelled of rotten eggs.

Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one.

Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

I was relieved to hear the lunch bell. My brain felt like a wrung sponge. Everyone filed out of the classroom except for me, Harry and Ron, who was whacking his wand furiously on the desk.

"Stupid... useless... thing..."

"Write home for another one!" Harry suggested, as the wand let off a volley of bangs like a firecracker.

"Oh yeah, and get another Howler back." said Ron, stuffing the now hissing wand into his bag.

We went down to lunch, where Ron's mood was not improved by Hermione showing us the handful of perfect coat buttons she had produced in Transfiguration.

"What've we got this afternoon?" said Harry, hastily changing the subject.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts." said Hermione at once.

"Why" demanded Ron, seizing her timetable, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the timetable back, flushing furiously.

"Awww Ronniekins is jealous." I mocked.

"Shut up, i'm not!" Ron said, now also blushing. Harry and I exchanged knowing smiles before turning back our attention to our lunch.

We finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again.

Harry, Ron and I stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before I became aware that  Harry was being closely watched. I nudged him in the arm to get his attention.

Looking up, we saw the very small, mousey-haired boy we'd seen trying on the Sorting Hat last night, staring at Harry as though transfixed.

He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry and I looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm - I'm Colin Creevey!" he said breath-lessly, taking a tentative step forward. I'm in Gryfindor, too. "D'you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you" said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forwards. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes raked Harry's hairline) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move."

Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's brilliant here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you-" he looked imploringly at Harry- "maybe one of your friends could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"