𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

17 || Professor Lockhart

Ashlynn

"Don't bother," I snorted, laughing at Ron's indignant face. "Harry's much better than you at flying anyway. And I'm better than Harry, so-"

"You are not," Harry argued.

"Just because you're the Seeker doesn't mean you're the best-"

"But I'm the youngest Seeker in a century-"

"I'm the youngest Chaser in a century!"

"You have to think I'm good, you gave me that broom handle-"

"I gave you the broom handle to compensate for your inability to fly straight," I said airily, buttering my toast. "End of discussion."

Harry groaned as everyone at the table laughed.

Just then, there was a loud screech as three beautifully brown barn owls landed on the table, bearing creamy yellow envelopes.

"School letters," said Mrs. Weasley, bustling about the kitchen and handing everyone their respective envelopes. I opened mine with a tear, laughing at Ron because he had to fully destroy his to get the letter out. It told me to catch the Hogwarts Express on September first and there was also a list of books I needed for the new year.

"Have you lot been asked to get all of Lockhart's books, too?" Fred asked, referring to the famous wizard.

"Yep," I nodded.

"The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan, bet it's a witch," George said. He caught Mrs. Weasley's eye and busied himself with the marmalade.

"This lot won't come cheap," Fred said, looking at his father.

"Wait," I said suddenly. "I don't know how to get any wizarding money. Dumbledore gave me a bag last time."

"We'll take you to Gringotts and get your key, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "Every wizarding family has a vault, regardless of who--of who your father is, I know your mother was a witch."

"Thank you," I said, my head buzzing with questions about my father that I desperately wanted answers to, but every adult that knew my mom seemed to act like they didn't know my dad, or at least didn't want to talk about him.

"Let's go play Quidditch," I said suddenly, wanting to keep my mind away from those thoughts. Dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that brought a tickly feeling behind my eyelids and a lump in my throat.

"Yeah, let's go!" said Ron, jumping up to grab his old Shooting Star.

"I need to switch out the handle on my broom," Harry said, pushing his breakfast plate away. "I'll meet you guys out in the orchard."

I grabbed my Nimbus from where it was resting against the staircase and followed Ron and the twins outside.

"We've got an odd number," Fred pointed out.

"Oi! Percy!" bellowed George. "Stop being a hermit and come play Quidditch!"

"No, thank you," came the muffled reply, followed by the slamming of an upstairs window. I laughed as Fred and George split us up into teams.

"Guess we'll just have to have an odd number, then." said Harry, shrugging as he walked out, his broomstick on his shoulder. Fred and George were the captains of each team.

"I want Ashlynn," The twins said together, and then scowled at each other.

"Further proof that I am better than you at Quidditch," I whispered to Harry. He scowled as I grinned.