McGonagall approaches Quirrell's class and stops us. "You both wait here." She walks in. "Excuse me, excuse me, Professor Quirrell. Could I borrow Wood for a moment?"
"Oh. Y-yes, of course." A boy gets up to leave and Quirrell continues his lecture.
"Potters, this is Oliver Wood. Wood, I have found you a Seeker and a Beater!"
Harry and I look at each other in shock, surprised that we weren't in trouble. Then look at Oliver who is smiling at us both.
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Harry, Ron, and I are walking through crowded halls. Sir Nicholas and a lady ghost float by.
"Have you heard? Harry Potter's the new Gryffindor Seeker and Amelia Potter is the new Beater. I always knew they'd do well." Sit Nicholas states.
"Seeker and Beater? But first years never make their house teams! You two must be the youngest Quidditch player in-" Ron starts to say.
"A century, according to McGonagall." I tell him.
Fred and George approach and walk along with us.
"Hey, well done, Harry and Mia, Wood's just told us!" Fred congratulates us.
"Fred and George are on the team, too. Beaters. Like you, Mia."
"Our job is to make sure that you don't get bloodied up too bad. Can't make any promises, of course. Rough game, Quidditch." George says.
"Brutal. But no one's died in years. Someone will vanish occasionally..." They break off from Harry, Ron, and I.
"But they'll turn up in a month or two!!" George adds to Fred's statement.
"Oh, go on, guys, Quidditch is great. Best game there is! And you'll both be great, too!" Ron says and Hermione jumps up from her work and comes to join us.
"But I've never even played Quidditch." Harry says.
"What if we make a fool of ourselves?" I add, worriedly.
"You won't make a fool of yourselves. It's in your blood." Hermione tells us. The four of us approach a trophy case. Hermione points at a plaque of Quidditch players. One lists Harry and I's father as a Seeker.
"Whoa. Harry, you never told me your father was a Seeker, too." Ron says in amazement.
"I-I didn't know."
"Maybe mom was a Beater." I state and look around the trophy case, but don't find anything. "Or not."
We walk up a staircase. A railing pulls in...Hermione looks, but continues walking.
"I'm telling you, it's spooky. She knows more about you both than you two do." I hear Ron whisper to Harry and I. I roll my eyes.
"Who doesn't?" Harry says. The staircase shudders and begins to move. We grab the railings. "What's happening?"
"The staircases change, remember?" I inform him. The staircase stops, in a new place.
"Let's go this way." Harry says to us.
"Before the staircase moves again." Ron adds
We all open a door and walk into a spooky, dark room.
"Does anyone feel like...we shouldn't be here?" I ask.
"We're not supposed to be here. This is the 3rd floor. It's forbidden." Hermione states.
Suddenly, a flame lights on a tall stone support. At that moment, the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris, comes running in and meows. We jump.
"Let's go." Harry says. Mrs. Norris meows again.
"It's Filch's cat!" I yell.
"Run!"
The the four of us run, flames are lit as we go. We get to the end of the corridor, to a door. Harry grabs the handle, but it's locked.
"It's locked!" Harry says.
"That's it, we're done for!" Ron mutters out.
"Oh, move over!" I push through and pull out my wand. "Alohomora." The door opens. "Get in." We bustle in.
"Alohomora?" Ron questions me.
"Standard book of spells, Chapter 7." Hermione states for me.
"Anyone here, my sweet?" We hear on the other side of the door. Then the cat meows. "Come on."
"Filch is gone." Hermione informs us.
"Probably thinks this door's locked." Ron says.
"It was locked." I tell him.
"And for good reason." Ron, Hermione, and I turn to stand with Harry. There is a massively huge three headed dog sleeping in front of them. The dog begins to wake. It growls, yawns, and growls more...noticing us.
We scream and bolt, running out of the door. We turn quickly to shut the door and battle against the dog. The door gets shut, I lock it again and we run.
Back in the Gryffindor room, we are breathless.
"What do they think they're doing?? Keeping a thing like that locked up in a school." Ron asks.
"You don't use your eyes, do you? Didn't you see what it was standing on?" Hermione says to him.
"I wasn't looking at its feet! I was a bit preoccupied with its heads. Or maybe you didn't notice, there were three!" We begin to climb the stairs to the dorms.
"It was standing on a trap door. Which means it wasn't there by accident. It's guarding something." I inform them.
"Guarding something?" Harry asks.
"That's right. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed before either of you come up with another clever idea to get us killed...or worse, expelled!" She turns and leaves, shutting the door to our dorms.
"She needs to sort out her priorities!" Ron says. Harry nods. I roll my eyes again.
"Goodnight, boys." I say and turn to leave as well.
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Outside, day time, Harry and Wood carry a trunk full of Quidditch supplies. I walk along side them.
"Quidditch is easy enough to understand. Each team has eight players, 3 chasers, 3 beaters, that's you Mia, 1 keeper and a seeker that's you, Harry. There are three kinds of balls." He picks up a red one. "This one's called the Quaffle. Now, the chasers handle the Quaffle and try to put it through one of those three hoops." Wood points to a faraway Quidditch pitch. "The keeper, that's me, defends the hoops." He throws ball to Harry. "With me so far?"
Harry tosses me the ball. "I think so. What are those?" He points to two squirming chained down balls.
"You better take this." He hands me a small bat. He bends down and releases one ball. With an angry growl, it flies off into the air. The two boys and I watch it. "Careful now, it's comin' back." The balls comes whizzing down, and I take a crack at it with the bat. The ball soars off through a statue. Eh, not bad, Potter. ....Uh-oh." The ball zooms down, and Oliver grabs it, wriggling to get it back in the box. He succeeds and is out of breath. "Bludger. Nasty little buggers. But the only ball I want you, Harry, to worry about is this...the Golden Snitch." He hands Harry a walnut sized golden ball.
"I like this ball." He says.
"Ah, you like it now. Just wait. It's wicked fast and damn near impossible to see."
"What does he do with it?" I ask.
"He catches it...before the other team's seeker. You catch this, the game is over. You catch this, Potter, and we win."
The ball flutters out two delicate wings and jumps into the air. Harry keeps an eye on it.
"Whoa." It then flutters away.
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Charms class. The teacher is very short, and is standing on a bunch of books.
"One of a wizard's most rudimentary skills is levitation, the ability to make objects fly. Uh, do you all have your feathers?" Hermione raises hers. "Good. Now, uh, don't forget the nice wrist movement we've been practicing, hmm? The swish and flick. Everyone."
"The swish and flick." We all say and do the motions.
"Good. And enunciate. Wingardium Leviosa. Off you go then."
"Wingardrium Leviosar." Ron whacks the wand numerous times.
"Stop, stop, stop. You're going to take someone's eye out." I tell him, stopping his arm.
"Besides, youre saying it wrong. It's Leviosa, not Leviosar." Hermione adds.
"You do it then if you're so clever. Go on, go on." He tells Hermione.
Hermione straightens up and swishes her wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa." The feather glows and lifts up. Ron puts his head on his books dejectedly.
"Oh, well done! See here, everyone! Ms. Granger's done it! Oh, splendid!" Professor Flitwick states.
"I could do that." I whisper to her and fix my posture. I put my arm out in front of me with my wand in hand. "Wingardium Leviosa." The feather begins to lift up nicely and the Professor congratulates me.
"Two Gryffindors on the first try! Well done! Five points to Gryffindor!"
Seamus begins swishing at his feather.
"Wingard Levosa. Wingard Levosa."
BOOOM!!! Seamus' feather explodes. Flitwick gasps.
"I think we're going to need another feather over here, Professor." Harry says.
Neville, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and I are walking through a courtyard with other students all around.
"It's Leviosa, not Leviosar. Honestly, she's a nightmare. No wonder she hasn't got any friends!" Ron starts to say.
"Hey! I'm her friend!" I spit at him, hitting his shoulder.
"Probably for pity!"
Hermione bustles past, sniffling.
"I think she heard you." Harry tells Ron.
"Now you've done it." I tell him, hitting his shoulder with mine as I follow Hermione.
I find her in the girls bathroom and I go in. I hear her sobbing in one of the stalls. "Hermione?"
"Just go away!"
"Hermione? Please talk to me."
"I don't want to talk!"
I sit down with my back against her stall door. "You're bloody brilliant. Ronald's daft, and he doesn't understand basic concepts. And he can be an arse."
"You got that right."
"Please talk to me."
"Why are you my friend? Is it because you feel sorry for me? Are you trying to make yourself feel better?" She asks in an angered, but sad voice.
"What? No! Is that what you think?" I ask her. She continues to sob. "If anything, you're the one who's giving me pity friendship."
"How do you figure that?" She asks.
"Because, look at me! A 'celebrity' who doesn't really know why she's famous." I scoff. "Hell, I'm only famous because my parents were killed by a dark wizard."
"Stop, just stop." She says in between sobs. "You defeated You-Know-Who. That's why you're famous."
"Yeah, but take a look at what I lost to do it." She stays silent. "Look, I'm here for you, Okay? So you just let it out, and I'll be here when you're done."
She continues to sniffle.