There are certain things in life that you aren't meant to question. The sky is blue. The ocean is wet. The Hogwarts Express moves at an astonishing speed no matter what the weather. Birds fly, pigs don't, and Potters always play Quidditch.

My mother did it professionally. My father could have, was he not headstrong and determined to rid the world of as many Dark wizards as he could.

My grandfather, on dad's side, also played at school; and while my namesake grandmother is technically only a Potter by marriage, like my mum, she was known to enjoy participating in an occasional match.

My brothers, James (the second) and Al (as in Albus), both played for Gryffindor when they attended Hogwarts. When James graduated, Albus got Captain, a position he bragged about even after his graduation in June.

Now it's my turn. I was able to, for the most part, avoid the Quidditch pitch, saying that Charms Club was important to me, and we wouldn't want to overload the team with Potters. Now though, with James Head Chaser for Puddlemere and Al on the Cannons Reserve team, someone has to wear the Potter jersey in the first match of the season, and I'm the only one left to do it.

There's just one teeny tiny little problem.

I can't play Quidditch.

Can't, I realize, might be a bit of an exaggeration. I know the rules, the roles, all the tricks (clean and dirty). It'd be impossible not to growing up in my house. Logistically speaking, I'm a pro. So long as I got to stay on the ground, I'd probably make a decent coach.

The problem is when I get in the air. Brooms don't like me. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that brooms hate me. The longest I've ever managed to stay on one of the contraptions without getting thrown off was eight minutes and twenty two seconds (Roxie timed me.) Adding a snitch, a quaffle, two bludgers, and thirteen other people to the mix is just asking for disaster to strike.

"All of Gryffindor house is counting on you, but no pressure," I mumble to myself, repeating my eldest brother's words from the platform.

"Talking to yourself, Lils? Or have the Nargles invaded?"

I make a production of rolling my eyes at the intruder of my solitude, not that I was expecting it to last all that long. "Must be spending too much time with your mother if you're blaming Nargles," I tease.

"Rather the Nargles than my best friend being mad enough to talk to herself, dontcha think?" Lysander says, collapsing into the space next to mine on the compartment bench. "Where is everyone?"

I go over the list in my head for a moment. "Roxie and Hugo are doing rounds, Lucy went to hunt down the trolley, and I handed over responsibility of Lorcan to you at the end of last year."

Lysander chuckles. "You make it sound like he needs a babysitter or something."

I raise an eyebrow in response, causing Lysander to dissolve into another fit of laughter.

The Scammander twins, born to the great (great?) grandkid of some old writer and my mum's best friend Luna, are an odd pair. They're both a little on the eccentric side, though whether they get it from their mum or dad no one really knows, but I suppose that's why we get on so well. Mum always says I'm an awful lot like my godmother was at Hogwarts.

I have yet to decide if that's a good thing or not.

The compartment door slides open again, and Lucy Weasley walks in, arms laden down with various treats. Lorcan stumbles in behind her.

Lucy is my Uncle Percy's youngest, and the black sheep of her little branch of the family. She works hard to do whatever she can to set off her straight-laced parents and rule abiding older sister. The latest bought of rebellion lead to the nose piercing that had her grounded through most of the summer. She claims it was worth it, and the little hoop does go nicely with her (currently) maroon hair, to celebrate the start of term.

"Sweets and a Lorcan! I'm the best, I know, you may all commence with the bowing at my feet and kissing the ground I walk on," Lucy sings, dumping her loot on a seat and stretching out next to the small pile. She tosses me a Chocolate Frog, and I grin proudly. I knew I had her trained up nicely.

"Merlin's pants, I've got dad again!" I glare at the smirking portrait and toss the Chocolate Frog card at Lorcan. He's trying to see how many Harry Potter's he can collect before graduation.

Mostly to spite me. Arse.

"Where are Roxie and Hugo?" Lucy asks, her question barely audible around her mouthful of Pumpkin Pasty.

"Rounds," grunts Lysander.

"Stupid prefects."

"Just because you're jealous Lucy -"

"I am most certainly not jealous, Lysander!"

"Please don't make me take points from my own house before we even get to the school."

Hugo Weasley is standing in the doorway, looking weary at walking in on the argument. Roxanne (yet another Weasley) shoves past him, launching herself into the first available seat she sees. "Are we there yet?" she moans.

Though Roxie is the spitting image of her mother Angelina, she is definitely her father's daughter.

"Roxie, it's only been forty five minutes."

"Bite me, Scammander."

"Someone's crabby," I comment casually.

"Goyle tried to hex me in the damn corridor, you bet your arse I'm crabby," Roxie snaps.

"I told you to go to the Headmaster," Hugo grumbles, not for the first time.

Victoria Goyle has been harassing Roxie since our first year, and the feud has only gotten worse since. When Roxie became a Prefect, she gained a little more power and protection, but not enough to stop the large girl.

"I've said it many times Rox, Vicky is obviously harboring deep, intense, romantic feelings for you."

Roxie's eyes narrow at Lucy, who doesn't even blink under the threatening stare.

"If you don't talk to someone, I will Roxanne," Hugo says in a low voice, returning to his earlier point. "This has been going on years now, it's ridiculous."

Hugo often plays the voice of reason in our bunch. He takes after his mum in nearly every way, including getting dragged into situations he'd rather avoid, and saving everyone's arse in the end.

Thank Merlin for Hermione Granger-Weasley.

"Just drop it, Hugo, I'm handling it."

None of us are really reassured by her forceful words, but we drop the subject for the time being anyway.

The rest of the train ride to Hogwarts is spent playing game after slightly violent game of Exploding Snap, and we're all sporting burns on our hands as we tug our robes from our trunks and on over our street clothes.

Hugo and Roxie are fastening their Prefect badges to the front of their robes, and I'm about to tease them about it when I notice Lysander is pinning something to his own robes.

"What's that?" I ask, surprised when he blushes lightly at my question. "Ly?"

"I got Quidditch Captain," he says in a low voice, shrugging it off.

Rambunctious shouts echo in the compartment as everyone cheers and congratulates him.

I block it out, my mind racing.

Lysander's Quidditch Captain. Lysander's my best friend (after Roxie, but she's family and doesn't really count). Lysander needs a new Chaser, to replace Al. I can Chase. Probably. It can't be that hard, right?"

"Lysander, you've gotta let me on the team."

Everyone goes silent.

What'd I say?

Yay new story! And look, I've figured out how to make the proper line break! I'm really excited about this idea. It's fun to play in the canon universe with characters that I can twist however I want. Not sure how fast updates are going to be on this one. It's easier to write than He Saved Her because I don't have to consult the book, so we'll see how it goes. Don't be shy about leaving a review with your thoughts, and expect an update on He Saved Her by the end of the week!