Chapter Four

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"Today's spell is simple, something many of you might already know: levitation."

Blaine's day wasn't starting out great. He had Charms with the Ravenclaws, which was nice and all, but the class was going horribly.

The professor demonstrated the spell, Wingardium Leviosa, and let them try with feathers.

People were getting it immediately. Even Wes, the boy who had just found out he was magic on the train ride there, nailed it. Some people didn't do as well, but their feather moved, flopping around on the desk.

Blaine's feather did absolutely nothing. It sat on the desk, refusing to move.

He said it exactly the way the professor and everyone else did, moved his wand just the same, focused everything on the feather, but it wouldn't budge.

He was in the front of class, and he knew the professor watched him, seeing him miserably failing.

By the end of class, his eyes were stinging as he held back tears. Why couldn't he do it? Everyone else got it to at least flop off the desk.

His next class was Transfiguration, and he figured maybe it could go well.

They had to turn a toothpick into a sewing pin. That was it.

People struggled more at first, but most got it to turn silver, or get a wooden sewing pin, or accidentally snap the toothpick in half.

And again, his just sat there. Refusing to change, or move, or do anything.

By the end of that class, he hadn't accomplished anything either.

He didn't go to the Great Hall for lunch, going out onto the grounds, trying to calm himself down and fight back his tears.

"Why can't I do anything right?" he asked the open field. "They want me to lift a feather, or change a toothpick to a pin, and I just can't do it! I'm saying it right, I'm doing the motions right, I don't get it!"

He raised his arms out, shouting at the sky. "Am I just a failure, is that it? Am I just so freakin' worthless that I can't use my own magic? I— UGH!"

He collapsed down onto the grass, burying his face in his hands. All the tears he'd been holding back finally fell.

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