I turned the pages of my books lazily, and kept notes on the pages that interested me; those with the spells and the requirements on them. In the middle of the night, when my fellow dorm colleagues lay asleep, I hide under my duvet and silently practise.

However, I find that saying the correct incantation and moving my wand carefully, as to mimic the movements illustrated on the pages is not enough. I lack motivation. Will. Desire. My fear of being discovered shadows my concentration, and my wand merely flickers instead of producing light. Sparks scatter, in the place where a clear, blue flame should reside. My covers barely move when I try to levitate them off me.

I lay, disappointed, and sleep follows soon after. It has been a hard day. My Potions class was particularly demanding. It requires a clear mind to remember all the useful parts of a dragon when I have never seen one upclose. I aim to do my best, though.

~ written two days later, on the Grounds, prior to the Sun setting ~

I did it. I made my own blue flame.