“Willow! Get down from there!” McGonagall’s voice wasn’t the only one screaming up at me. As high as I was, I could see Hermione’s pale face framed by her dark hair, Ron’s slightly amused expression, Harry’s brain at work, Lorea taking pictures for future reference, the two Roses pointing up at me and laughing, Olivia saying something hopefully calming to Hermione and then a bunch of other random kids running around to enjoy the sight of me.
“GET DOWN! ESHAYS BRO!” Rosa yelled.
Well, let’s just say I hadn’t planned for my day to end up quite like this.
***Flashback to earlier that morning:
“We’ve got to go and explain,” said Hermione as she looked up at Hagrid’s vacant chair.
I wish I was a tiger.
“We’ve got Quidditch tryouts this morning!” said Ron. “And we’re supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick! Anyway, explain what? How are we going to tell him we hated his stupid subject?”
Then I’d be like: Roar, I’m a tiger.
“We didn’t hate it!” said Hermione.
Do tigers roar? Or is that just lions...?
“Speak for yourself, I haven’t forgotten the skrewts,” said Ron darkly. “And I’m telling you now, we’ve had a narrow escape. You didn’t hear him going on about his gormless brother — we’d have been teaching Grawp how to tie his shoelaces if we’d stayed.”
I wish I was a lion.
“I hate not talking to Hagrid,” said Hermione, looking upset.
“We’ll go down after Quidditch,” Harry assured her. “But trials might take all morning, the number of people who have applied.”
“Oh hey, I applied for that!” I grinned.
“God help me.” Harry sighed. “I dunno why the team’s this popular all of a sudden.”
“Oh, come on, Harry,” said Hermione, suddenly impatient. “It’s not Quidditch that’s popular, it’s you! You’ve never been more interesting, and frankly, you’ve never been more fanciable.”
Ron gagged on his toast, while I continued to mouth ‘fanciable’. Hermione spared us one look of disdain before turning back to Harry.
“Everyone knows you’ve been telling the truth now, don’t they? The whole Wizarding world has had to admit that you were right about Voldemort being back and that you really have fought him twice in the last two years and escaped both times. And now they’re calling you ‘the Chosen One’ — well, come on, can’t you see why people are fascinated by you? And you’ve been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks on the back of your hand where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway. ...”
“You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look,” said Ron, shaking back his sleeves.
“Won wuvs mione.” I whispered in his ear. “Won wants some wuv.”
“Shut up your face.” Ron said suddenly to me, turning beetroot.
I grinned triumphantly.
I knew it!
MWAHAHAHAHAHHA!
“And it doesn’t hurt that you’ve grown about a foot over the summer either,” Hermione finished, somehow not noticing Ron.
YOU ARE READING
The Other Potter: Book 6
RandomAnd Willow comes back for her sixth year, in a bad mood. I don't know what's going to happen this year, and I'm writing this shit. May the odds be ever in your favour, Miss Willow Cover by weirdhyperinsane! :)
