Rory Potter, the Girl Who Lived

The Duel in the Trophy Room

          "Rory, come look!" Hermione calls from down the stairs. We're in the Gryffindor common room . . . well, Hermione is, at least. I'm upstairs trying in vain to comb my tangled waves of dark brown hair.
          "One minute, Hermione," I call as I finally untangle the last lock of my silky hair. I bound downstairs to where Hermione stands waiting for me next to the noticeboard.
          "What is it?" I ask her curiously.
          She points to a paper pinned on the board, saying, "We've got broom practice today with the Slytherins, so we've got to wear comfortable clothing."
          I nod and follow her up to our dormitory to change out of our uniforms and into athletic clothing. I pull on an athletic outfit. Then, at Hermione's suggestion, I put my hair into a messy bun on top of my head to keep it out of my face.
          Breakfast goes badly. It starts out fine, with Hermione and Neville panicking about flying lessons, but when the mail comes, that's when itntakes a turn for the worse. Neville has received a Remembrall from his grandmother, as he tends to forget things quite frequently. But then Malfoy comes swaggering up and snatches it. That results in a fight. Until, of course, Professor McGonagall comes along and restores order.
          We run outside at the time it's supposed to start and take our places with the rest of the Gryffindors. I stand on Harry's right, and Hermione next to me. The professor, Madam Hooch appear with a smile. She places a broom in front of each of us.
          "I'm Madam Hooch," she barks. "Well, what are you all waiting for? Stick your right hand out over your broom and say 'Up!'"
          "UP!" everyone shouts. 
         My broom jumps into my hand immediately, and I look up with a smile on my face. I notice that Harry's has as well, and Malfoy's too. His icy blue eyes lock with mine for just a second longer than I would have been comfortable with before he gives me a small but genuine smile. I return the gesture, blushing.
           Madam Hooch shows us how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, then says, "Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet in the air, then come straight back down by leaning forward a bit. One - two - "
          But Neville, being nervous, kicks off early. He spirals straight in the air, higher and higher with no sign of stopping. Neville let's out a gasp as he slips sideways off the broom. He plummets, then hits the ground with a nasty crack. Madam Hooch runs over.
          "Broken wrist," she says, "you'd better go to the hospital wing. Now, if any one of you touches those brooms while I'm gone, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.'"
          With that, Madam Hooch and Neville are gone. Malfoy bends over a d pucks something up from the grass. Neville's Remembrall.
          "Did you see that lump's face? Maybe if he'd given this a squeeze, he'd remember to fall on his fat arse rather than his arm," laughs Malfoy. The rest of the Slytherins howl with laughter.
          "Give it here, Malfoy," Harry demands. Malfoy just looks at him like he's shocked to be challenged. At the moment, I hate myself for thinking he's cute.
          "Its not yours, give it back," I hiss. ​​​​​​ That git pisses me off.
          "No," says Malfoy, mounting his broom. "Its not yours either. I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find . . . how about it a tree?"
          Harry and I mount our brooms as Malfoy kicks into the air. Hermione grabs my sleeve.
          "Rory, Harry, no! You heard Madame Hooch, you'll be expelled! Don't do it!" she begs. Harry and I ignore her, instead kicking into the air to join Malfoy. Flying is the best feeling ever, it's natural to me and comes easy as pie. 
          "Idiots," I hear Hermione mutter. Harry and I glide to a stop in front of Malfoy. He looks shocked that my brother and I can fly like pro's.
          "Give it, Malfoy," Harry hisses.
          "Or else we'll have to get it ourselves," I finish. 
          "Fine. Catch!" Malfoy shouts, throwing the Remembrall as far as he can. Harry and I zoom after it, but I pull back, knowing I won't be able to catch it. Harry catches it litterally inches from the window and stops, but slips and throws the ball to me. My mind works overdrive, calculating what I'm going to do. My eyes flick to the statue of the angel holding a wreath over its head. I look back at the Remembrall a millisecond before the lousy throw hits my shoulder. I maneuver it, sliding it fast up to my hand. I grip it as I zoom towards the statue and throw it through the wreath. Harry flies over and catches the ball. The students below cheer.
          But then Harry and I stop dead as an unmistakable voice rises over the Gryffindor's cheers. The stop immediately.
"HARRY AND RORY POTTER!" 
          My heart sinks just as fast as Harry just dove. We spiral to the ground and replace our brooms, trying to communicate with facial expressions.
          "NEVER - in all my time at Hogwarts - " Professor McGonagall is almost speechless with shock, " - how DARE you - you might have broken your necks!! Mr and Miss Potter, follow me."
          I grab Harry's hand and he grips it as we follow McGonagall, who storms through the castle. Eventually, she stops outside the Charms classroom.
          "Wait here, you two," she instructs. Harry and I wait silently, sending each other worried and scared looks. Moments later, McGonagall returns with a burly fifth-year boy.
          "Potters, this is Oliver Wood. Wood - I've found you a Seeker and a Chaser."
          My big green eyes stretch wide, and Wood's expression changes from puzzlement to delight. 
          "Oh. My. Gosh. Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh!!" I squeal, jumping up and down. 
         "Really, Professor? But they're first years!" Wood asks.
          "I can convince the staff to make an exception. They're naturals! Was that your first time on brooms?"
          Harry looks up and nods silently, obviously having no idea what in the name of Merlin is going on. I grin from ear to ear, but shake my head.
          "Mr. Potter caught that thing in his hand inches from the window and threw it to Miss Potter - it hit her shoulder but somehow she got it to her hand - do you know that statue with the wreath?​​​ Miss Potter threw the ball from maybe thirty of forty feet away - and got it through the wreath, then Mr. Potter dove and caught it again! I've never seen anything like it!" McGonagall stammers. Wood is now looking like all his dreams have come true all at once. I bet my face is a picture perfect match to his.
          "Ever seen a game of Quidditch?" He asks excitedly. I nod happily.
          "Wood's the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team," McGonagall explains. Woods eyes become wide.
          "We'll have to get them decent brooms, Professor, Nimbus 2000's of Cleansweep 7's, I'd say."
          Wood walks around us, first inspecting Harry, then me.
          "They're both built perfect for flight. I'd say Miss Potter is as good or better than my current Chasers, by the look of her. And Mr Potter has the build for an amazing Seeker, maybe the be we'd ever have!" Wood exclaims. Professor McGonagall looks over at us sternly.
          "Now, I want to hear that the two of you are training hard, or I might change my mind about pulling you up and changing the rules. And punishing you for that ridiculous stunt."
                                                   * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
          "You're joking."
          Its dinnertime, and Harry and I have just told Ron and Hermione about our new spots on the Gryffindor team. Luna walks over, and I tell her, too. She hugs me and fives her congratulations, then leaves, saying she's off to look for Wrackspurts. Again.
          "Potter!" a voice calls. Both Harry and I turn around. Two Gryffindor girls, who I recognise as Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell hurry up to us.
          "Congratulations! We're Chasers, too, Rory!" Angelina says.
          "Yeah, after Wood kicked Alicia off the team, our new Chaser had backed out, so he was looking for one. You're going to be perfect!" Katie chimes in. I thank them and they run off to somewhere else. 
         "Having last meals, Potters?" a voice mocks. I turn around to see Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.
          "You're a lot braver now that you're on the ground and have got those two thugs with you," I spit.
          "Of course," Harry says coolly, "if we were to get rid of them, you'd get no where in life."
          "I'd take you anytime on my own, Potter. Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel, wands only - no contact. I won't duel a girl, but I'll duel you. Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
          "Of course he has," snaps Ron. "I'm his second. Who's yours?"
          Malfoy looks at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.
          "Crabbe," he decides. "Midnight, alright? In the trophy room, it's always unlocked. Bring the girl, she'll need to see you fail."
          When he's gone, Ron explains a wizard's duel to Harry. He frets, "What if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"
          "Throw it away and punch him on the nose," I suggest. Harry and Ron laugh, and Hermione gives us a disapproving look from across the table.
                                                       * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
          "Half past eleven, we'd better get going," I hear Ron say to Harry as they creep down the stairs to where I'm waiting. I wear a short nightgown, a bathrobe, and slippers, my dark wavy hair pinned into a messy bun on top of my head. I clutch my wand in my right hand. 
          We're almost at the portrait hole when a voice speaks up from a nearby armchair: "I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry."
          A lamp flicks on. It's Hermione, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown. 
          "You!" Ron says furiously. "Go back to bed!"
          "Come on, Hermione," I say soothingly. "It's just a bit of fun."
          "I almost told you're brother Percy." Hermione snaps at Ron. "He's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."
          "Come on," Harry says to Ron and I, pushing the portrait hole open. He climbs through, then grabs my hand as I step out. Ron goes next, a Hermione follows us, hissing like an angry goose as the portrait clicks shut behind her. 
          "You'll lose us points! I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup! Don't you care? I'm not the only one who wants to see Slytherin lose at something! Its really very selfish of you to do this."
          "Go away," Harry snaps.
          "Fine. I warned you, if you - " 
          What we would do, we never find out. Hermione had turned to leave, but the Fat Lady had gone. Hermione is locked out.
          "Now what am I going to do?" she asks shrilly.
          "That's your problem," says Ron. "We've got to go, we're going to be late."
          We haven't even reached the end of the corridors when Hermione catches up.
          "I'm coming with you," she says, grabbing my hand.
          "You are not!" hisses Ron.
          "Yes, she is, if she says so. And I agree with her, I'm not just going to leave her in the hallway," I snap.
          "Of course," says Hermione.
          "You've got some nerve - " Ron starts loudly.
          "Shut up, you three!" Harry says sharply. "I heard something!" 
          It was sort of snuffling.
          "Mrs Norris?" breathes Ron as we all squint through the dark, Hermione and I gripping each other's arms hard.
         It's not Mrs Norris, but Neville. Hermione and I relax our grip on each other. For now we're safe, but we still have Filch the crazy caretaker to worry about.
          "Thank goodness you found me! I can't remember the password to get back into the tower and to bed," Neville says rather loudly.
          "Shh! The password's 'pig snout', but that won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone on a midnight excursion," I whisper.
          "Hurry up!" Ron hisses, and we tiptoe off, now joined by Neville. When we enter the moonlit trophy room, we find it to be empty. The five of us pull out our wands and wait with baited breath.
          "Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner somewhere," Filch's voice says to Mrs Norris. Harry beckons wildly for us to follow, and I grab Hermione's hand as we all rush silently from the trophy room. Filch can be heard shuffling closer and closer.
          Suddenly, Neville let's out a squeak and starts to run. But he trips and grabs Ron around the middle. The pair of them topple right into a suit if armor.
          The clanging and crashing is enough to wake the whole castle.
          "RUN!" my brother bellows, grabbing my hand. I'm still holding Hermione, and he drags the both of us as fast as we can go. Ron and Neville follow. Along corridors, up stairs and through tapestries we sprint, until we hit a locked door. I hear Filch wheezing and sputtering maybe three corridors away.
          "Oh, Godric, no!" Ron moans as we push frantically at the door.
          "Oh, move over," Hermione snarls, shoving her way to the front. She whips out her wand and taps the lock. "Alohamora!"
          The lock clicks and we all pile into the room, pushing the door shut and pressing our ears at it to listen. We all breath hard, trying to be quiet.
          "Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch asks our school poltergeist, Peeves.
          "Say 'please'"
          "Don't mess with me now, where did they go?"
          "Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," Peeves says in his annoying, high-pitched singsong voice.
          "All right - please," Filch groans.
          "NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" We hear Peeves whooshing away and Filch swearing in rage.
          "He thinks the door is locked!" Harry breathes. I nod.
          "What is it Neville? " I demand quietly. Neville has been tugging on my sleeve for the past three minutes.
          A gigantic dog stands over us, growling and drooling from all three mouths - wait three mouths . . . which means three heads! I grab onto Harry as he gropes frantically for the doorknob, too scared to take his eyes off the dog and look for the knob. Finally he finds it and nearly falls backwards through the now open door into the corridor. Pulling me with him, he run as fast as he can. The door slams and the others follow us, catching up just as we reach the portrait of the Fat Lady that serves as the door to the Gryffindor tower.
          "Where on earth have you been?" she demands, taking in our flushed and sweaty faces, messy hair, and bathrobes hanging off our shoulders.
​​​​​​          "Never mind that - pig about, p​​​​​ig snout," I pant.
          "Very well," the Fat Lady says, and the portrait swings forward. We scramble into the common room and collapse into armchairs, trembling. Neville excuses himself to go to bed.
          "What are they doing, keeping something like that locked up in a school?" Ron gasps finally.
​​​​​​          "I have no idea," Harry says. "But if any dog needs exercise, its that one."
           "Didn't you see what it was standing on?" Hermione snaps.
           "The floor?" I suggest. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."
           "No, Rory, not the floor. It was a trapdoor. Its obviously guarding something!" Hermione says, than she stands, flaring at Harry and Ron.
          "I hope you're happy. We could have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."
          "No, we don't mind," says Harry.
          Ron shuts his open mouth and says seriously, "She needs to sort out her priorities."