Y/N and Harry navigated their brooms downward, the lush expanse of grass beneath them a testament to their agile maneuvers. The chorus of cheers emanated from the gathered students, their jubilation directed at Harry, who was seemingly basking in the triumph of having outpaced Y/N.
It was a scene of perceived victory, as the students extended their congratulations to Harry, their voices resonating with admiration. Harry held the Remembrall firmly within his grasp, a triumphant display as he waved it triumphantly in the air.
Amidst the cheering crowd, Y/N observed with arms crossed, her posture reflecting a sense of detached amusement. Draco's approach drew her attention, his presence at her side accompanied by a quizzical inquiry. "How'd you lose to that four-eyes?" Draco's question hung in the air, his arm slung over Y/N's shoulder met with a swift and dismissive push.
"I didn't," Y/N's retort was delivered with a deadpan expression, her response a mix of assertion and a tinge of exasperation. Draco's bemused expression remained, his confusion evident as he processed her words.
With a nonchalant shrug, Draco offered his response, his tone tinged with mild skepticism. "Sure, mate. Whatever you say." His words bore an air of light-hearted banter, a testament to their familiar dynamic.
The moment of casual exchange was disrupted by a voice that carried the weight of authority. "Harry Potter. Y/N Crimson." The voice was stern, demanding their attention, and both Harry and Y/N shifted their focus toward the source. Professor McGonagall's gaze held a gravity that cut through the celebratory atmosphere.
Y/N's gaze locked onto McGonagall's, her eyebrows slightly furrowing in a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. She exchanged a glance with Harry, their unspoken exchange a reflection of their shared bewilderment. "Professor?" Y/N's voice held a note of inquiry, a mixture of respect and genuine curiosity evident in her tone.
The professor's response was succinct and direct, carrying a sense of purpose. "Follow me. Both of you." McGonagall's command left little room for negotiation, her expectation of compliance clear in her authoritative demeanor.
"Never — in all my time at Hogwarts," McGonagall's words hung in the air, her voice laden with a mix of astonishment and disbelief.
Her sentence trailed off, leaving her momentarily speechless as her glasses seemed to flash in tandem with the intensity of her emotions. The gravity of the situation had clearly taken her aback.
Amidst the charged atmosphere, Parvati's voice interjected, an attempt to clarify and explain the situation. "It wasn't Harry's fault, Professor. It was Y/N and Malfoy that did it—" Her words carried a note of defense, an earnest effort to absolve Harry of any blame in the unfolding situation.
McGonagall's response was swift and commanding, her authority evident in the sternness of her words. "Be quiet, Miss Patil," her tone left no room for argument, the weight of her authority settling upon the scene.
Parvati, however, was determined to make her point. "But Malfoy—" she began, her voice carrying a sense of urgency as she sought to illuminate the role Draco played in the incident.
"That's enough," McGonagall's interruption was sharp and resolute, her command silencing any further protest. Her gaze bore into the young witch, her expression conveying the limits of tolerance for further argument.
As the exchange reached its zenith, McGonagall shifted her attention to the two central figures at the heart of the matter. "Miss Crimson. Mr. Potter, come with me, now," her tone was unwavering, demanding their immediate compliance.
Y/N and Harry exchanged a lingering glance, the tension between them palpable. Their expressions mirrored a blend of defiance and annoyance, the unspoken challenge that had been the undercurrent of their rivalry manifesting once again. With a shared exchange of glares, they prepared to follow the older woman, each step forward laden with a mixture of reluctance and curiosity.
✴✴✴✴✴
The two students trailed behind the stern woman as they navigated the corridors, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The journey led them to a halt before the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"You wait here," McGonagall's words were tinged with an air of authority, a directive that caused both Harry and Y/N to pause in their steps. They exchanged a glance that carried a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity.
As the professor strode into the classroom, Harry and Y/N found themselves momentarily left to their own thoughts. The quiet corridor provided a backdrop for the tension that lingered between them, the anticipation of impending consequences weighing heavily on their shoulders.
Harry's voice broke the silence, a murmur laced with genuine concern. "Wood? Is that a cane McGonagall's gonna use on us?" His words carried a blend of apprehension and concern, his imagination running wild with the prospect of punishment.
Y/N's retort was swift, her irritation palpable as she grumbled her response. "This is all your fault." Her tone conveying a mix of blame and exasperation.
Harry's defense was equally swift, his voice holding a hint of exasperation. "You and Malfoy were being arses. We wouldn't be facing expulsion if you two didn't decide to steal Neville's Remembrall." His assertion held a measure of truth, his frustration evident as he emphasized their roles.
Y/N's retort was laced with a sneer, her words a testament to her defiance and the rivalry that simmered beneath the surface. "Oh please. Spare me your goody-two-shoes act, Potter," she taunted, her voice carrying an edge of challenge.
"What good has it ever brought you?" Her words were a provocation, a pointed reminder of the limitations of conforming to expectations.
"It's brought me my morals," Harry's retort was charged with a fervent assertion, his voice carrying a touch of righteous indignation as he defended his values.
"Morals my ass," Y/N's response was swift and unapologetic, her words a dismissal of his assertion. The tension between them simmered, their exchange charged with a mix of irritation and defiance, each retort serving as a testament to the clash of perspectives that defined their interactions.
The return of the woman, McGonagall, broke the current of their conversation. She was accompanied by two boys, one hailing from Ravenclaw and the other from Gryffindor. Oliver Wood and Roger Davis, the respective Quidditch Captains for their teams.
The recognition dawned upon Y/N as their names were revealed, her mind piecing together their significance within the world of Hogwarts sports. McGonagall's introduction was brisk and matter-of-fact, her words carrying a tone of authority.
"Potter, Crimson. This is Oliver Wood and Roger Davis."
The implications of McGonagall's words settled upon them, and Y/N's lips parted in a mixture of surprise and realization. "Wood, Davis. I have found you a Seeker and a Chaser," McGonagall's statement was punctuated by a deadpan delivery, her words unveiling the unexpected turn of events.
"You're joking," Y/N's response held an air of disbelief, her tone reflecting the shock that coursed through her. Harry's expression mirrored her confusion, his brows furrowing as he sought to comprehend the situation unfolding before them.
Harry's curiosity manifested in a straightforward question. "What's a Seeker and a Chaser?" His inquiry was met with a scornful retort from Y/N, her impatience evident as she shut him down.
"Shut up, Potter. All you need to know is we're not expelled," her words held a bite, the nudge against his side accompanied by a wince from Harry. Y/N's gaze shifted to McGonagall, a new question emerging as she contemplated her fate.
"And if I don't accept this role, Professor?" Her inquiry held a note of defiance, her voice steady as she challenged the newfound proposal.
McGonagall's response was straightforward and unwavering, her authority evident in her words. "Then you're expelled. I'm saving you from your punishment, Miss Crimson," the professor's response was pragmatic, her tone carrying a sense of responsibility.
The weight of the situation settled upon Y/N's shoulders, the gravity of her decision becoming palpable. Her gaze shifted to the two Quidditch Captains, Wood and Davis, whose voices joined the conversation.
"Well, that's great! Harry has the build of a Seeker, light, fast, and speedy," Wood's enthusiasm was infectious, his words punctuated by an affirming nod from McGonagall.
Davis chimed in with his assessment, his words directed at Y/N. "I reckon that too. Y/N's got a good Chaser build, a few push-ups and pull-ups should do her right, seeing as first-years can't use the gym yet," his input was delivered with a touch of practicality, his tone suggesting a matter-of-fact understanding of their physical attributes.
As Harry and Y/N exchanged bewildered gazes, the conversation continued to spiral into a realm of the unexpected, unveiling a path that diverged from their expectations and thrust them into a world of new challenges and uncharted territories.
"Very well. I want to hear you two training hard or I might just take back your punishment." McGonagall said playfully, Y/N and Harry smiling. "Your father would be proud, Harry. And I'm sure your father is too, Y/N. They were both excellent Quidditch players as well."
"Thank you, Professor."
✴✴✴✴✴
"You're joking," her words carried an air of incredulity, her surprise evident as she processed the unexpected turn of events.
The dining hall buzzed with chatter and the clinking of cutlery, the aroma of freshly prepared food mingling in the air. Among the lively conversations, Sophie's voice rose above the rest, her exclamation punctuated by a mouthful of food.
The topic of conversation centered on Y/N's newfound role as a Chaser in Quidditch, a designation that seemed incongruent with her first-year status. Aurora, her curiosity piqued, interjected with a question.
"Chaser? But you're a first-year. I thought they weren't allowed brooms," her inquiry was delivered between bites of roasted potato, her genuine interest evident.
Seraphina, her gaze shifting toward Y/N, paused as if awaiting confirmation. "You must be the youngest Quidditch player in..." her voice trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.
"A century," Y/N responded with a matter-of-fact tone, her words carrying a sense of pride and accomplishment. A wide grin adorned her face, her enthusiasm palpable as she reveled in the novelty of her achievement. Her explanation followed, delivered with an animated gesture that complemented her words.
"Davis just said I need a bit of fattening up. A 'Clean bulk' he said, gave me a workout routine too, just basically upper body workouts and a few core exercises, to improve on my throwing skills and stuff," her explanation was accompanied by a sense of determination, a commitment to embrace the challenge that lay ahead.
The three Ravenclaws looked on, their expressions a blend of surprise and admiration. Aurora's praise was genuine, her words a reflection of the awe that Y/N's achievement inspired. "You're amazing, Y/N," her tone was filled with admiration, her nod of approval an affirmation of the feat Y/N had accomplished.
Y/N's response was a mix of humility and playful confidence, her words capturing her perspective on the situation. "Did you expect anything less? Of course," her retort was punctuated by a chuckle, her grin holding a touch of lighthearted arrogance.
Sophie, never one to let an opportunity for banter pass by, interjected with a sarcastic remark. "Don't get too ahead of yourself, Crimson," her words carried a playful tone, the camaraderie between them evident in the jests that flowed freely.
A voice, familiar yet infused with a sense of mischief, reached Y/N's ears from behind. She turned on her heel, her gaze landing on Draco as he strolled towards her. An eyebrow arched inquisitively as she crossed her arms, the posture a reflection of her curiosity and readiness for whatever banter he was about to engage in.
"Oi, Y/N," the greeting hung in the air, accompanied by a casual tone that hinted at the exchange to come. Y/N's response was equally nonchalant as she sought to uncover the purpose of his interruption.
"Yeah?" she inquired, her tone tinged with a touch of amusement.
Draco, ever the master of smugness, sported a self-assured smirk that set the stage for his revelation. "I may or may not have challenged Potter to a Wizard's Duel," his words carried an air of mischief, a hint of excitement for the potential showdown.
"What's that got to do with me?" Y/N's question was direct, her curiosity prompting her to seek the connection between his duel and her involvement.
"You're my second," Draco's response was delivered with a deadpan expression, his words revealing the role he intended her to play. Y/N's lips parted in mild surprise, her initial response almost instantaneous.
"No," the word carried a firm refusal, a clear boundary she was setting.
But Draco, adept at the art of persuasion, wasn't ready to accept defeat so easily. His plea carried a hint of exasperation as he appealed to her knowledge and skills. "You know more spells than I do! Come on, Y/N. You wouldn't embarrass your best mate, would you?" his words held a touch of manipulation, his attempt to play on their friendship evident.
"Who said you were my best mate?" Y/N's retort was swift, a playful rejoinder that challenged his assumption. She wasn't about to concede easily. Her proposition emerged, a deal that balanced their interests.
"Anyways, I'll do it if you do all my Potions for a week," her offer held a practical edge, her determination to gain something in return palpable.
Draco's acceptance was prompt, his agreement underscored by a sense of eagerness. "Deal. It's at midnight," he explained, the specifics of the challenge laid out for her consideration. Y/N's response was a roll of her eyes, a gesture that conveyed a mixture of annoyance and reluctant agreement.
As she turned back to her plate, the Ravenclaw trio – Aurora, Seraphina, and Sophie – exchanged disapproving and amused looks. Sophie's reaction stood out as she cackled hysterically, her amusement at the unfolding exchange evident in her unabashed laughter.
TO BE CONTINUED...