"Mia!" I hear my brother call my name from behind me in the corridor.
"Hi, Harry." I greet him with a warm smile.
"Quidditch tryouts are today." He tells me. "But you don't have a lot to worry about, you're on the team."
"Woah, woah, woah. Look, I'm flattered, but if I'm not the best player to tryout, then don't put me on the team."
"What?" He looks confused.
"You can't hand me a spot, just because you're captain now and I'm your sister."
"Well, I just thought..."
"I'm going to earn my spot, just like everyone else." I smile proudly and he returns the smile.
"Good luck, then."
"Thanks." I begin to walk away. "Not that I need it." I wink at him and he scoffs.
Later that day, multiple Gryffindor me gather around the field for tryouts.
Harry tries, with little success, to get the attention of the throng of aspiring Quidditch players assembled on the pitch.
"All right! Queue up! Excuse me..."
"SHUT IT!" I yell. Instant silence. Harry frowns, nods to me, nevertheless.
"Thanks. All right. This morning I'll be putting you all through a few drills to assess your strengths. But know this: Just because you made the team last year does not guarantee you a spot this year. Is that clear?" He looks to me with a smile and I nod my head towards him.
Ron looks unnerved at this, sweating so much he's attracted a pesky fly. Cormac McLaggen, the huge boy from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, sidles up.
"No hard feelings, Weasley, alright?"
"Hard feelings?" Ron asks, confused.
"I'll be going out for Keeper as well. Nothing personal." He smiles.
"Really? Strapping guy like you, you've got a Beater's build, don't you think?" I walk up to the two boys.
"I don't know Ron, I don't think he could handle the Beaters position either." I say to the tall boy, looking him up and down. "Beaters need to be strong, good eyes, nice aim. And, well, a Keeper needs to be agile, quick-"
Cormac nabs the fly between two fingers, kills the buzz. "I like my chances." He smiles at us and gives me a wink. "Say... think you could introduce me to your friend Granger? Wouldn't mind getting on a first name basis, know what I mean?"
"I don't think she's your type." Ron tells him.
"Oh yeah, and why not?"
"Oh, Ron's just being nice." I pay my friend on the shoulder. "He really meant your not her type."
Cormac saunters off. Ron glances up to the stands. Hermione smiles, waves.
Ginny flies swiftly, handling the Quaffle with ease. Two second years collide in mid-air. Cormac makes a brilliant save. Ron makes a shaky save.
Hermione looks on, nervous for him.
Katie Bell snatches a Quaffle with one hand, splits two defenders beautifully and makes a slick blind pass to Dean who jets high in the air, then lets the Quaffle roll off his fingers... right into Ginny's hands as she races below.
Seamus sends a Bludger rocketing into the stands, scatters a group of onlookers, leaving only Neville, who sidles delicately to the right as the others leg it.
Two third years collide in mid-air. Cormac makes a brilliant save. Ron turns the wrong way but makes the save anyway as the Quaffle caroms off the tail of his broom.
Hermione looks on more nervously.
I see a bludger coming a few feet away from me. Lining myself up, I hit it straight at Cormac. He dodges it and looks to me with a glare.
"Oops, bad aim." I shrug my shoulders and send a wink to Hermione who giggles in the stand. I look down and see my brother trying to hide his smirk.
Demelza Robbins, bent low over her stick, pins the Quaffle under her chin, splits two Bludgers and a pair of Beaters.
Two fourth years collide in mid-air.
Two aspiring Beaters "whiff" on a pair of Bludgers, whack each other instead and plummet to the pitch as the Bludgers ricochet off one another and go flying into the stands, scattering onlookers yet again and leaving, as before, only Neville. This time, he sidles delicately to the left.
Cormac makes a brilliant save.
The Quaffle bounces off Ron's head. Hermione looks on extremely nervously. Two fifth years collide in mid-air.
Another bludger comes my way, so I line up my target. Actually being serious this time, aiming for one of the chasers. A fourth year, who's flying decent, but can't seem to get the Quaffle in the goal.
With the ball in his hand, I pull my beaters bat back and send the bludger towards him. It hits him square in the stomachs and he toppled over on his broom, coughing and panting.
Harry smiles wildly and Ginny and Hermione clap for me.
The survivors press ice packs to their heads, run tape round twisted fingers. Only Ron, hovering at the west goal, and Cormac, hovering at the east, remain on the pitch.
"All right. Cormac. Ron. It's down to you two for Keeper. We'll decide it with a shootout. Demelza, you'll bring the Quaffle up against Cormac. Ginny, you'll take on Ron." Harry instructs.
"Hang on. She's his sister. How do I know she won't toss him a floater?" Cormac complains.
"Piss off, Cormac. How 'bout I toss you a floater?" Ginny scoffs.
"Yeah, or I can send another bludger your way. You're pick." I cross my arms.
"Quiet! I'm Captain. We do it my way. Now line up. On three. One. Two... Three!" Demelza and Ginny rocket forth. Ron weaves nervously while Cormac hovers in place, a confident sneer on his face.
Harry and I stand next to each other and mutter under our breaths, "C'mon, Ron..."
Demelza hunkers over her broom once again, flying like an arrow, then goes into a wide, sweeping slide. Ginny blasts over the pitch, ginger hair streaming like flames, then rolls recklessly to the side. As one, they both let it fly.
Cormac, at the last moment, inexplicably rolls his broom to the right and the Quaffle sails over his shoulder. Ron, zig-zagging crazily, nearly falls off, rights himself in a panic, and deflects Ginny's Quaffle... with his forehead. As a few partisan cheers erupt from the stands, Harry grins, then has to restrain himself.
My face is beaming and I look over to Hermione. Her eyes are closed, but then she opens them slowly.
"Isn't he brilliant?" Lavender Brown asks her.
Hermione stares balefully at Lavender, then notices Cormac eyeing his broom incredulously. She gets up, and slips away.
Later that day, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry scans his Potions book. Hermione peruses the Prophet. Ron cracks walnuts, pitching the pieces into the fire. I start on my paper for Charms.
"Have to admit, thought I was going to miss that last one. Hope Cormac's not taking it too hard." Behind her paper, Hermione rolls her eyes. "Has a bit of a thing for you, Hermione. Cormac."
"He's vile." She states.
Ron considers this, then glances across the room at Lavender.
"Ever heard of this spell?" Harry asks me, showing me another note in the margins of his textbook.
"Sectumsempra. For Enemies." I read aloud. "No I haven't." Hermione frowns.
"If you had a shred of self-respect you would turn that book in."
"Not bloody likely. He's top of the class. Even better than both of you, Hermione and Mia. Slughorn thinks he's a genius." Hermione casts Ron a withering glance. "What?"
"I'd like to know just whose book that was. Let's take a look, shall we?" Hermione reaches out for it.
Harry holds it away from her. "No."
"Why not?" She asks suspiciously.
"It's... old. The binding is fragile."
"The binding is fragile?" I repeat his words as a question then look to Ron. We both burst out laughing.
She makes another grab for it, but Harry holds it clear. Then Ginny appears, plucks it out of his hand.
"Who's the Half-Blood Prince?" She asks.
"The who?" Ron, Hermione, and I question.
"That's what it says. Right here." She points to the first page. "'This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince.'"