Anssi was the type of person who frowned whenever he was trying to keep focused. Thinking back even to when he first started attending primary school, he could remember being interrupted by Mamma at the kitchen counter, telling him to stop glaring at his book before it snapped back at him (or, as he got older, before the wrinkles stayed stuck to his face. Why she had jumped from the playful image of angry books to the aging process he still wasn’t completely sure, although she’d started dying her hair around the same time, which was likely related). That had always bothered him a bit. Glaring carried a weight of emotions but his frowns didn’t have any emotion behind them. They didn’t really mean anything at all, except that he was thinking hard.
Right now, though, his frown could appropriately be called a glare. The fifteen-year-old was in fact frowning so intensely at the pen on the table in front of him that one of his eyes had started twitching, as if trying to protest that he should stop. He wasn’t going to stop just for that, but the twitching was getting distracting. On a whim he decided to try closing it and just stared at the pend with his left eye for a long moment. That helped him focus again, but the pen stayed black. Exhaling in a noisy huff, Anssi shook his head to clear it, raking his fingers through slightly overgrown blonde hair before glaring at the pen again and trying a different spell. This time it worked: the pen did a wobbly roll across the desk. He’d made progress in doing the most basic charms nonverbally and without his wand, but actually changing an item - whether something simple like the colour, as he had been trying before, or transfiguring it into something completely new - was what he needed to tackle next.
“Doing more complicated spells without wands or words should still be the same process as the easier spells,” he thought aloud. “Maybe I just suck. It shouldn’t be this hard, right?” It was a bit of a rhetorical comment. If there was something crucial he was missing, surely he would have figured it out by now, or at least he hoped he would have. But if anyone could help answer a rhetorical question, it was Remy.
Optimistic that she might have something to contribute, he glanced over to where Remy was. “How are you doing?” She’d been taking Animagus classes for longer, not just because she was a year older, but Anssi hadn’t signed up for the elective as soon as it was available to him - he only joined last year, and partway through the year at that. At the time he’d thought he might be able to catch up, but his lessons with Aaron had quickly revealed that everyone moved through Animagus training at their own pace, and when it came to transfiguring your own body, it was probably best not to rush it too much. Still, as naive as his original perspective might have been, he couldn’t help feeling left behind on the very long path to becoming an Animagus. It was great that Remy had agreed to hang out with him in the commons today and work together; now he just hoped she could offer some wisdom. Glaring at pens wasn’t the best way to pass the time.