Miss Slytherin

Book 2: Chapter 7

"Your birthday is coming up next week, what are your plans?" Hermione asked. Finley groaned she thought she was going to escape this too once she separates from Theo and Blaise.

"Not you too," she heard Hermione giggle.

"What's wrong? You're turning thirteen Finley," Harry grinned. Ron the other hand was rambling on how she should appreciate that her birthday was coming, done and over with.

"I want to keep things under wraps Mione, not let the whole castle know," she scolded.

The trio laughed at the Slytherin girl's dilemma. Hearing a small thump on the table she looked up towards her Slytherin friends and saw three wrapped gifts.

"You shouldn't have," she said as she saw their grins.

The trio knew that Finley didn't like gifts that were extravagant like how her slytherin friends do it, it was why they had bought their gifts extremely ahead of time during the trip to Diagon Alley. They were also sure that none of then would be seeing her as she is now training for the Slytherin team as a beater.

"Open them," Hermione urged. And Finley did open them, one small rectangular box contained a fountain pen. It was Hermione's gift for her since she did buy her a new set of quills for her birthday. A relief that the fountain pen came with a small jar of ink.

Ron was the most fun gift that she received in the trio, he gave her a box of the twins' pranking sweets. To be used of course to get her out of class if she wanted, though they were prototypes she was assured that they would work like a charm.

Harry was always ever so thoughtful that he gave her another notebook, but unlike last Christmas this one was green and leather bound and at least an inch thicker than the last one. "I heard you complain that you had to write on parchments again," he said.

"Thank you!" She swooned at the wonderful gifts that she received from her friends. Gifts of which she desperately needed as soon as possible, especially Harry and Hermione's gifts. She was going bonkers if she was writing on parchment and ink suddenly runs out, she was often in a bad mood because of it. Ron's gift was heaven as she would use it often in that blond baboon's class, it seemed to her that she was pushing the right buttons on the faker and it was bloody brilliant!

The time she left the library was an hour before she had to meet up with the team beaters, she almost left in a sprint bumping into students who were walking in the halls.

And once she was in the pitch, Flint was thankfully in a good mood that he was less aggressive for her training. Bludgers that were thrown at her were ruthless, too ruthless that they almost knocked her off her broom if she wasn't quick enough. In the corner of the pitch Flint was training Malfoy with charmed golf balls, she admitted that he was good but not as good as Harry.

The last bludger sent her way was hit a bit too hard that she was hit on her shoulder that she heard a sickening crack. "Oh shit!" The beater exclaimed. Thankfully she wasn't knocked off her broom, she was able to land safely on the ground dropping her bat and wincing in pain.

"I'm so sorry," the beater said holding her injured shoulder.

"It's fine—"

"You could've costed her her beater arm!" Flint couldn't help but yell, it wasn't just her arm he was nervous about. It was the fact that Snape watched it happen from the pitch unknown to everyone except Flint.

"It's fine Flint—"

"Bring her to the Hospital wing," all the boys froze. It was the head of house in his dark robes, they couldn't tell if he was furious or not he just held a straight face.

The hospital wing wasn't all that bad really, when she arrived the Mediwitch was already notified that she was coming as if she knew she was coming in today.

"You'll have to put off training until that arm is healed."

Flint cursed under his breath, of course she was going to need to rest. Thankfully they were just grooming her for the team this year, but it would be a waste if she does get to the pitch to hone skills enough to make a prodigy out of her.

"I'll be back on the pitch as soon as I can," she said.

She didn't like quidditch, she didn't like it at all. But the amount of time and effort poured on to her was too large for her not to continue it, the expectations from her was great and she knew that well.

"You better be," was all Flint could say as he glared at his beater who was still apologetic to her.

That was how her day ended, with her in the hospital wing and beside her was a hairy beast that she knew was their DADA Professor. Still glaring daggers at her for the hair growing potion, she gave off a careless glance.

The night came, she fell asleep on the hospital bed. Her arm still in a cast and she screams as the searing pain came from her shoulder as if it was freezing her again, too similar to the incident that happened the year before. But the odd thing was, no one bothered to help her through it.