"Can I call you Tori? You know Tori, I'm a great friend."
"I don't get it, why are you being nice to me?"
"Maybe I don't want to see you friendless."
When Victoria Silvers, who comes from a long line of Slytherins, is sorted into Gryffindor her life...
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"I wish I could've gone!" Lee Jordan sighed, leaning against the window of the carriage that began taking them towards Hogwarts. They had been replaying all of the quidditch cup to him, telling him all the details of the bet and the game itself.
Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive, the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale.
Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. "Let's go fast, I don't want to get soaked." Alicia sighed, running her fingers through her hair.
The group rushed up the stairs, trying to outrun the rain. "Thank Godric!" Alicia grinned, only seconds later to let out a scream. A large, blue, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto her head and exploded.
Drenched and spluttering, Alicia staggered sideways into Angelina, just as a second water bomb dropped — narrowly missing George, it burst at Tori's feet, sending a wave of cold water over her trainers into her socks. People all around them shrieked and started pushing each other in their efforts to get out of the line of fire – Tori looked up, and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow-tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"
Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor house, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself falling. "Ouch – sorry, Miss Granger –"
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upwards through her square-rimmed spectacles.
" Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts. Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second-years who had just arrived
"I shall call the Headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall "I'm warning you, Peeves –"
Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.
"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"
Alicia was complaining loudly about how she was soaked. She squeezed her hair out on the steps, entering the great hall.
The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in mid-air. The four long house tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here.
