Little Brave Hearts || Neville Longbottom

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On her birthday, there were two boxes that Felix had delivered. She was able to open the one her parents sent her, while the other one was still remained untouched.

Staring at it as she sat on her bed, Maykha found it strange to receive a gift other than her parents. On top of that, there was no label nor writing on its exterior, making her wonder more about what it contained. Curious as she was, however, Maykha was still suspicious. What if it was something dangerous inside?

"Well, danger is my second name, I guess," she muttered under her breath until she finally reached out to it and opened with a nervous heart.

Inside, there was nothing but a brown leather notebook and a piece of folded paper. Maykha grabbed the paper first and read what was written.

'Hold on to this until the time is right.'

Confusion started forming a knot inside her mind. There was nothing written on the paper that indicated who the sender was. After she placed the paper back inside the box, she then grabbed the notebook. It was a little dusty that she had to wipe it a bit in order to see the small pen writings on the cover.

A.D.B.

"A.D.B.? Are those the initials of the sender?" She asked herself.

Finally getting consumed by curiosity, she finally opened the notebook only to be disappointed to see its blank pages. She flipped, tapped, and closed and opened the notebook several times but there was nothing written in any of its pages.

"Is this some kind of a joke?"

Maykha frustratedly placed the notebook back in its box and she decided to put it inside the drawer of her bedside table before plopping her back into her bed. Her mind was still thinking about the weird notebook that she tried to convince herself was nothing but a prank from someone. If that was indeed a prank, it was a heck of a boring one.

Turning her head to her side, her eyes landed on the flowers that Neville had gifted her. She noticed that the petals were starting to wilt, making her sit back up to grab them.

The idea of being in a magical place made her thought that perhaps, flowers like the ones in her hands were magical as well and were incapable of wilting. Proving herself wrong, she tried to remember if there was any spell she could use to preserve her flowers, but it was fruitless. There was nothing like a preservation spell written in the books she had read so far, and the only way to save the flowers was to ask her professor if he knew something about what she needed.

"Don't wilt on me, please," She whispered to the flowers as she held them closer to her chest.

...

If there was anything that made her feel uncomfortable more then going to class with only one plate of breakfast, it was Transfiguration. It was not the class itself, but their professor. Professor McGonagall always wore a stern face that demanded attention and respect, however, whenever she looked at Maykha, she would always give her a strange expression. Her gaze would soften, but it there was a hint of curiosity in it.

"Is it just me, or Professor McGonagall is staring at me with a weird look again?" Maykha whispered to Harry while they were in the middle of self-practice. They were to transform a porcupine into a pincushion, and Harry seemed to be too focused on it to notice what she was talking about.

"I don't think she's looking at you weirdly. What's weird is the fact that we have to transfigure a bloody live animal into a pincushion when you could just buy yourself one!"

Giving the boy a blank stare, Maykha just shook her head and went back to her own work. Still, she could feel the eyes of the professor looking at her.

When they were dismissed, she finally decided to approach the professor and ask if there was any problem with her, or perhaps she was failing the class. Transfiguration may not be her best, but she doubted her performance would be bad enough to have the professor loon at her pitifully.

"Professor McGonagall?" Maykha called. The woman looked up from her desk to meet her face.

"Yes, Miss Iglehart? Is there any problem?"

"Actually," Maykha hesitated, "I was about to ask you the same question, professor. Uhm...do you have any problem with me or my performance? Or anything you want to tell me at all?"

Professor McGonagall raised her brows, confused about what she was trying to say, "I beg your pardon?"

"I mean, you were staring at me earlier like I did something wrong," she said, scratching the back of her head.

"Oh, was I?" Professor McGonagall said, "Well, I...I'm terribly sorry for that, I didn't to make you feel uncomfortable. You have done nothing, worry not."

The woman assured her with a smile, yet as she excused herself to get going, somehow she was still not convinced that those glances she gave was nothing to worry about.