Thea Howell and The Boy Who Lived

Chapter 6: Flying High and Riding Along

No one ever told me how much you could hate a child. Especially a spoilt one. Malfoy demanded attention from everyone and anyone, notably from Snape, Flint and Potter. His need for spotlight was almost as draining as Harry's actual spotlight; the whispers had turned into chants and Malfoy's mask was about to crack - I could smell trouble.

I sat in the Great Hall, watching the Friar fumble with the deck of cards. Holding stuff is hard for ghosts, requires a lot of concentration when you're just mist. As we continued our game of cards, the mail arrives. Shocker, no mail for me; no owl, no mail, but Henry was always a sweetheart. Oh, Henry was the crow who hung around Hagrid's home. Fang is a wimp around him, so he always ate Hagrid's prized pumpkins. I scratched his neck as he pecked at my breakfast.

Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a snow globe, full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things — this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red —" His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "—you've forgotten something—" Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet, clearly hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash,

She asked, "What's going on?"

Neville pointed, "Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Malfoy scowled at the boy before he quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.

"Just looking," he said, and sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind. All the while, Malfoy gloating about his 'talents'.

"He literally just stirred a cauldron — what talents?" I muttered.

Henry cawed in agreement.

"We're so going to win this year, that's for sure," Flint beamed, tallying up his points for the day, "Snape adores me, as he should!"

I muttered, "Maybe he'll let you touch his cauldrons,"

Somehow, he heard me, "He'd better, I deserve that much,"

The Friar sat there dumbfounded as I burst into laughter. Henry circled about as my giggles echoed across the room as the children stared.

"What?" He said, turning to his lackeys, "What?"

"Forgive thee children, as the devil passed through the girl's lips," The Friar spoke as my body leaned over, gasping at the stupidity, then BOOM!

Seamus Finnigan in Gryffindor had blown up a cup of water, causing my head to knock back and cackle like a kookaburra. More students looked over, concerned if I was hexed or something. My lung finally gave out as a stitch form around my chest, but I didn't care.

"Miss Howell!" someone said, tapping my shoulder, "Perhaps you need some w-w-water?"

I turned to a tall man with a purple turban, "Oh, I'm fine, Quirrell, just being cheeky!"

His fingers squirmed like worms, "I was-s afraid of that,"

"Did you see my wand?" I raised it towards his nose, "It's pretty great, huh?"

"N-not that you n-need it, eh, Miss Howell?" He fumbled.

Malfoy slicked his hair down and huffed, wiggling his wand around, "Mine's special too! I can already do a hundred spells with it!" As he flicked it at me and a spray of water fell out, dribbling over the table and spilling onto the floors, soaking his shoes.