Mischief Managed

23: The Worst Day

There are those moments. Those moments before everything changes.

They're so odd, those random bits of time, because there's no way of knowing they're important. There's no way of knowing those moments are your last. Your last thought. Your last laugh. Your last breath.

They don't even have to be your last moments. But everyday is always going to be someone else's.

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Two weeks after my parents had sent their letter, I found myself sitting through Transfiguration, drumming my fingertips lazily on my desk.

Remus sat beside me. His eyes were wide, his shoulders bent over his desk; somehow, it seemed, he was fascinated by the day's lesson.

McGonagall was lecturing us on the risks of human transfiguration- Yawn.

I idly flicked a stray string on my robes as McGonagall stressed-again- the importance of preparation and knowledge.

I could hear James and Sirius snickering from the front row. McGonagall whipped her head around, her eyes narrowing, and she said sharply, "Mr. Potter and Mr. Black? Would you be so kind as to share your humor with the rest of the class?"

James crossed his arms over his chest nonchalantly. "Well, I would be delighted to, but it's an inside joke," he responded snarkily.

Across from me, Lily let out a groan and her red hair fell in front of her face as she put her head in her hands.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "I see, Mr. Potter," she said. "Perhaps, then, it would be more fitting for the two of you to explain this joke to me after class?"

James decided to shut his mouth. Sirius nodded mutely.

"Very well then. Now," McGonagall continued, "The dangers of human transfiguration were proven in the case of Leilia Lither, the witch who attempted to- Professor Dumbledore?"

The Headmaster had slipped into the classroom without drawing any of our attention. His blue cloak billowed as he walked, and he murmured something in McGonagall's ear.

Whatever he had said couldn't have been good; McGonagall clapped a hand to her mouth and began nodding very quickly. Her lips tight, she said, "Of course."

All of the students, myself included, leaned forward in anticipation and fear. If Dumbledore himself had come to deliver this information, then clearly whatever had been said was important.

"Miss Convelo!" McGonagall called. Her voice was sharper than usual, but her tone wavered and something about the way she looked at me made my stomach drop.

Remus glanced at me. His posture had stiffened somewhat, but he shrugged and nodded in the direction of the two professors.

My legs wobbled as I passed the rows of desks. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. Whether it was judgement, pity, or curiosity, I wasn't sure.

Dumbledore smiled kindly down at me over his half-moon glasses. His smile, however, didn't settle my nerves- in fact, the way his face was set, the dampened twinkle his eyes, unsettled me further.

"P-Professor?" I stammered. I was awfully conscious that I had the attention of every student in the room. Sirius, too. Surely he was watching me. Was he nervous for me? Did he know what this was about? Did he-

"I'll explain everything to you in my office," Dumbledore said quietly. His voice was so low that only McGonagall and I could hear him. "Come," he said. His cloak swooped out of the classroom door before he even finished speaking.