Another @jilymicro-oops. Prompt 2: Penguin.
It was the class Lily had most been looking forward to all term. She had been humming with excitement ever since Professor Dearborn announced they would be covering patronus charms as part of their N.E.W.T curriculum. Hours had been spent trawling the library shelves for materials on the subject, from how to hone in on your best memories to possible interpretations of corporal materialisations. She had daydreamed about successfully casting and watching a penguin waddle and slide around the classroom on its belly. Anything and everything she could get her hands on, she had because she knew it was one of the hardest spells to master. Even many fully grown wizards and witches couldn’t accomplish it.
Which is precisely why she had to. It was the ultimate way of throwing back in Goyle’s face that she was more than worthy of her place not only as student of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardy, but of the wizarding world as a whole. Who could argue that if she was capable of such advanced magic on top of her prowess for potions? It would be undeniable.
It made her inability to even summon a wisp of charm vapour that much more devastating. Four lessons in, and she was starting to panic. The only other student who hadn’t accomplished something was Peter Pettigrew, who while book smart, often fell short of proper application. She gazed anxiously across the room where Severus Snape had managed to create a vortex of milky substance with his wand, one of the strongest among them. Beaten only of course by Potter and Black, who seemed to have mastered the spell with ease in only their second lesson. Their corporeal dog and stag had pranced around the room together several times, much to her utter dismay. Dearborn had now assigned them the task of attempting the spell non-verbally, which had proved to be more of a challenge worthy of them, but was also quickly overcome.
“Breathe, Evans,” Potter whispered, breath tickling her ear. He took gentle hold of her wand hand in his, mimicking the flourish of the spell. “You’re over thinking it. It’s an extension of you, you have to let it flow.”
Easy enough for him to say. He had nothing to prove. His path, no matter which he chose after Hogwarts, would already be paved in neat cobblestone. While she would have to carve hers with her bare hands in the earth.
Lily stiffened, drawing herself tall, shoulders down and back. She flicked her wand again and enunciated clearly. “Expecto Patronum!”
A pathetic puff appeared and vanished as quickly as it came.
“Your memory isn’t happy enough. You need something better, something stronger.” James encouraged. “Close your eyes. Picture something or somewhere that makes your whole body tingle and feel warm all over. Something that you can’t help but smile at.”
His hand travelled up the curve of her wrist, the length of her arm to her shoulder blade, kneading at the knot that had formed there. Her skin felt hot and prickly, both from his caress and the humility of her failure.
“Hey. Stop it. Winding yourself up is counterproductive. This spell takes patience and time.” “Says the guy who mastered it in two classes,” she huffed irritably.
“Yeah, but only because I’d been practising with my dad all summer,” he reasoned. “Watch.”
James took a step back and seamlessly flicked his wrist without so much as whispering the incantation, a regal stag erupted from the tip of his wand. It was a magnificent creature sporting a rack of antlers that would send a hunter drooling at the prospect of mounting them on a wall. It strutted to the end of the classroom.
“I think of the forest,” James was whispering again. “The feel of the sun on my back through the trees, the crunch beneath my feet, and the breeze ruffling my hair.”
His answer was unexpected. She thought he would have picked something more along the lines of flying, securing the quidditch cup and being paraded about on the shoulders of his team mates. Something so simple and tame didn’t seem possible of producing something so intricate. Then again, stags were the kings of the forest in folklore.
Perhaps she was drawing on the wrong thing. Her memory needed to be more akin to her penguin persona. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, focusing in on her memory. She was seven, or maybe eight. It had snowed at Christmas. The cold was biting, but it lay thick and fluffy in the garden. Her and Petunia had made snow angels, arms wide and giggling. Petunia’s laugh was still ringing in her ears as she cast.
“Expecto Patronum!” She opened her eyes and watched a streak of cloud leave her wand and evaporate.
James clapped her on the back. “See there you go! You’re getting there, try again.”
His palm slid slowly down to the small of her back. Leaving a trail of heated skin beneath. Her heart raced, stomach a flutter. It made no sense how she warmed under his praise.
She thought back to her very first flying lesson. The way her legs had wobbled before she kicked off the ground hard, sky rocketing several feet. “Atta girl, Evans!” Potter had cheered, putting his fingers in his mouth and giving her a triumphant whistle. The adrenaline rush of it, fight or flight. The way he had stared up at her from the ground not just with awe but with reverence.
That was what stuck in her mind as she cast. The cloud from her wand grew and formed shape. Her stomach somersaulted as it transformed into something conceivable, except this was no penguin. It had four long legs and a short swishing tail. A beautiful, dainty doe. It’s large eyes blinking, head turned high and searching. It approached James’ stag, coming so close they were almost touching nose to nose before both vanished into thin air.
“Well done, Miss Evans!” Dearborn boomed.
Snape looked like he wanted to be sick.
“I did it,” Lily mumbled. “I actually did it!” “I knew you would."
