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Lily let out a frustrated sigh as the bell rang, signalling the end of class. The goblet in front of her remained full of clear water, stubborn and immobile, as if it outright refused to obey. Every attempt at transfiguration had dissolved into nothing, the liquid shimmering like a cruel reminder of failure.
From the back of the room came the scrape of a chair. Professor McGonagall stood and advanced with measured steps that echoed off the stone walls. She had been watching Lily for over an hour and now paused before the unchanged goblet. Lily lifted her gaze for just a moment; she didn't know which hurt more, her own frustration or the shadow of disappointment she imagined on the professor's face.
"Everything's all right, Miss Evans. It's a complex spell," McGonagall said, her voice controlled but firm.
"It's not that complex," Lily murmured, averting her eyes to the surrounding benches. Every other goblet had been turned to solid stone. Only hers glimmered, teasingly, against the wood. "Everyone else managed it."
"It is complex," the professor insisted. "And there's a reason you're in advanced Transfiguration. Focus, and you'll succeed next time."
"Of course," Lily replied, unable to mask the unhappiness weighing in her voice.
It wasn't the first time she'd failed at a spell. Since arriving at Hogwarts, she had learned to persevere, to pick herself up whenever she stumbled. What had changed now was the environment. The hostility, Lily realised, had never been absent; it had always lurked, hidden in sidelong glances, hushed whispers in the corridor, smiles that never reached the eyes. But over time, the mask had slipped.
This year, the subtlety was gone. It was blatant, shameless. Some classmates mocked her without restraint, laughing quietly at every frustrated flick of her wand. Others stared arrogantly, as if merely watching her fail gave them satisfaction. Lily now understood what lay behind it all: a prejudice no longer concerned with hiding.
One by one, the students had left the classroom after completing the task of turning water into stone. Each faced their failure with a smug grin, as if she were incapable. Only she remained, alone before her goblet, untouched. The water reflected her weary face like a cold, merciless mirror.
Heat rose to her cheeks, each suppressed laugh chipping away at her confidence in invisible shards. Her wand felt heavy in her hand, almost rebellious, responding more to her tension than to her will.
"I suggest you reread chapter seven of Advanced Transfiguration to review the theory. Next lesson, we'll work on the reverse motion: turning solid back into liquid. That's even more difficult," the professor warned, in a tone that sounded more like a death sentence.
Lily stifled a groan. She had read and reread that theory countless times, without a single drop of success to show for it.
"Please help Mr Potter tidy the classroom. See you next week."
When she lifted her eyes, she caught James Potter quickly looking away, returning to the task of cleaning the blackboard. He had been the first to complete the transfiguration of water into stone, on his very first attempt. Then, as if that weren't enough, he had helped his friends.
Now, he was the last student left, alongside her. But for entirely different reasons.
Though they weren't close, Lily knew Potter had been considered a prodigy in Transfiguration since first year, McGonagall's pride and joy. She couldn't help the pang of envy at seeing him command an art that always seemed to slip through her fingers.
"You're moving your wrist wrong."
The voice came suddenly, much closer than Lily had expected. She blinked, startled, as if waking from a trance of self-pity. Lifting her head, she found Potter standing on the other side of the desk, watching her.
It was strange to hear his voice. Not that they'd spoken much before, but since sixth year, they hadn't exchanged a word. Fifth year, with its constant quarrels, had left scars. They had never been able to share the same space without barbs flying. Now, they avoided each other as if every encounter were a minefield.
In a way, it worked: the Gryffindor common room had never been so quiet. But in another, there was something uncomfortably odd about this absence of conflict. This was, in fact, the first time they had spoken directly in four months. And the sound of his voice, so sudden, made Lily realise how entrenched the awkwardness had become between them.
"Excuse me?"
"I've been watching," he said, awkwardly running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. "Your wrist is too stiff. You need it softer, but quick," he explained.
Lily frowned, staring at the hand holding the wand as if it held the answer.
"May I?" Potter stepped forward, raising his wand. Silently, Lily pushed the goblet towards him.
He concentrated for just a moment, drawing the curve in the air slowly enough for her to follow.
Lily traced every invisible stroke, biting her lip unconsciously. She knew the theory, the sequence, but seeing him execute the spell so effortlessly left her with a bitter-sweet mix of irritation and fascination.
"Like... an arc. Not a cut." Potter repeated the gesture, and the water in the goblet solidified into a block of stone with a sharp click.
"How did you—"
"You need to keep your mind clear and visualise not just the end goal, but the entire process. Imagine the water transforming, moving, every molecule coming together until it's solid as stone," he explained with ease.
With a flick of his wand, the stone became water again. Lily let out a wry sigh; Potter had been ahead of her in this subject for years.
"Try again," he said, pushing the goblet of water back towards her.
He extended his wand without hurry, and for a moment, their eyes met, conveying silent confidence. There was no arrogance, only expectation.
Lily tried to recall the early Transfiguration lessons, when she had had to suspend all the logic of Muggle science she had learned in order to believe in her magic. Back then, it had seemed easier; now it felt distant.
Still, she attempted what Potter had instructed. Focusing on the water, she mimicked his gesture, swift but soft, imagining the entire transformation until the water became stone. She could feel it moving inside the goblet, like blood coursing through her body.
The water shuddered, resisting until the last moment, but finally solidified into a block of stone, its surface still uneven. A sharp click echoed through the room, and Lily's eyes widened in surprise.
She had done it.
For a moment, silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant crackle of the torches.
"There you go," Potter said, satisfied. "Lily Evans, doing justice to your title as best student of the class."
Lily blinked, clearing her throat as he returned to the blackboard as if nothing had happened.
"I'm not the best student of the class."
"You are," Potter replied casually, without looking up. "Everyone knows it. That's why they give you such a hard time."
"No one gives me a hard time."
Potter paused, tilting his head to look at her over his glasses, Dumbledore-style.
"If you say so," he muttered dryly, turning back to the board.
That was when Lily realised: if he had noticed, it was because he had been paying attention. Even in months of silence, Potter had not stopped observing her. The thought unsettled her, though she couldn't tell if it was more the invasion or the fact he saw more than she wanted.
"I don't care what they say," she stated, defiantly.
Potter stepped away from the board, collecting the newly transformed stones from the students.
"You shouldn't," he agreed. "But it's obvious it affects you."
"How would you know? We haven't spoken all year," she shot back defensively.
"Because they don't do it only to you, do they?" Potter shrugged.
"Who else are they bullying?"
"Oh, so they are bullying you?"
Lily felt her cheeks heat as he turned fully to her, giving her his full attention.
"Look, Evans, I'm not going to meddle with you again, okay?" he began, serious. "I get that you can't stand me and think I'm a tyrant, but I'm not going to pretend I don't care about how those Slytherins treat you and other Muggle-borns. Obviously, it bothers you too, I'm just surprised you let it get to you."
Lily blinked at the observation. She had known James Potter since she was eleven. She knew him as a notorious prankster, arrogant and showy. But she also knew his protective and noble nature. Despite his often uncivil behaviour, it was never personal against someone because of their social standing or blood status.
"They're just cruel people," she said quietly.
"And jealous," Potter added.
"Jealous?" Lily asked, intrigued.
"Look at it this way, Evans," he continued, gesturing lightly as if to make her see clearly. "You grew up among Muggles, only discovered magic at eleven, and yet you've always been better than them. They thought being pure-blood would be enough, but you proved it takes more than that, didn't you?"
She didn't know what to say, shrugging awkwardly.
"I suppose," she agreed softly.
"You've got the best of both worlds, in my view. You know more spells than any of us and even all those Muggle inventions," he said enthusiastically. "I mean, electricity? That seems magical to me, and I can do some pretty neat things with a wand."
This time, Lily laughed, not caring if it sounded a little cheeky. Potter's eyes sparkled, as if that was exactly the reaction he wanted.
It seemed like the first time she had really seen him that year, even though they lived in the same house and shared the same tower.
She absorbed every word. Potter was pure-blood, son of a traditional wizarding family, everyone knew his parents; mother a diplomat, father a potion master. He always received letters, gifts, and his parents waited for him proudly at Platform 9¾. Moreover, he was exceptional in nearly every subject. That year alone, he attended seven advanced classes.
He could have been one of those intimidating boys who targeted anyone different. But, she had to admit, he wasn't. Despite his history of tasteless pranks and endless tricks, it had never been personal against anyone for their status in the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
"Thank you, Potter," she said finally, the words hard to get out.
"Anytime," he shrugged.
"But it's not just that, is it?" Lily glanced at her newly transformed stone. "Even if I'm good, I still can't master Transfiguration."
"That's because your mind's too full," Potter remarked casually.
"Is that why you're so good? Your mind's always empty," she shot back before she could stop herself. Potter laughed.
"Well, yes," he agreed, amused. "I suppose not having a bunch of idiots hassling me helps too."
"Lucky you."
"But as I said, you're brilliant at other things—spells, for example. You always manage to cast them first," Potter reminded her. "In the duelling club, you took down almost everyone. And we can't forget how you're the star in Potions."
Lily shot him a quick glance, trying to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks, but the quiet recognition warmed her chest.
"Potions isn't that hard," she shrugged.
"It is. My father's a potion master. There's an entire Potter line in the potion business, and I'll be the first to ruin it."
"You're not that bad," she interjected. Not a lie—she knew Potions, understood the processes and ingredients. Potter was far from bad.
"As bad as you are at Transfiguration," Potter shrugged.
"Transfiguration is far more complex," Lily defended herself.
"Speak for yourself."
Lily laughed at his dismissal and rose, beginning to gather the books left by the students.
"I could help you with Potions," she said casually, without thinking. Potter paused, looking at her.
"Really?"
"And you help me with Transfiguration," she proposed.
They moved closer, staring at each other intently. Potter had come back from sixth year much taller and more attractive, obvious from the first day, but only now did she allow herself to really look at him. His brown eyes gleamed behind his round glasses.
"Sounds like a plan to me," Potter agreed.
He held out his hand, which she accepted hesitantly for a moment, remembering who he was.
"No funny business," she warned.
"Word of a Marauder," he promised.
They shook hands in agreement and soon returned to tidying the classroom. Lily put the desks and chairs in place while Potter stored everything used during the lesson. Finally, they left the classroom side by side.