Um... disclaimer? If I were J.K. Rowling I wouldn't be writing FanFiction about my own books?

Prologue

I'd never been allowed to play Quidditch. I love it more than anything else in the whole entire world, and it bugs me that girls aren't allowed to play. But even though witches have more than proved themselves a wizard's equal, if not superior, all through history, it is physically impossible (without the aid of drugs) for teenage girls to be as strong as teenage boys. This is what the headmaster told me in hushed tones; why I would never play Quidditch. At my old school, Capulet's Castle, girls weren't even allowed to try out. I mean, what the heck? You don't have to have any strength at all to be Seeker!

Of course, my argument wouldn't really help me at all - because I'm stupid enough to love the position that needs the most strength.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. Sierra Leonardo, at your service. Your not-so-typical girl who hates being assumed a weakling, gets top grades in everything she does, and balances her life with the Muggle and the magic. I'm half-blood, by the way. One week at my mum's, one week at my dad's - the same way it had always been. My dad was the wizard, by the way. That's how I learned how to play. That's how I learned how to live.

When Dad died, I was left with the hope of someday being the world's best Beater. It was my duty to make him proud. But then, when I attended Capulet's, and was told that I was a girl and girls simply did not play Quidditch. But if my dad believed I could do it when I was seven, then I could do it. I can do it, no matter what anyone says. Of course, there is the one tiny problem that to be recognised by an international team, you had to play Quidditch in school. Which sucks, seeing as I'm not a boy, therefore 'inferior'.

I'm not saying anything against Capulet's Castle. It was the best, honest! Forty-seven students, ten teachers who taught a range of subjects, amazing castle. I learned heaps. The Castle was in the middle of the bush, so not only did we learn all the magic, but we also learned how to survive in the wild if our access to magic was gone. I knew the bush around Capulet's better than the feel of my wand in my hand. The Quidditch pitch was amazing, a clearing at the top of a mountain. I'm not sure what it's called, but we just called it Mt. Mount. I had a couple of friends, Suzie and Meg, who I loved to death. They're alive, thankfully, living in peace at the Castle.

I'm seventh year, seventeen, a senior, whatever you want to call it. Well, almost a seventh-year. It's August, and right now I'm in England, with Aunt Beth. She was my dad's sister. Beth Trinity now lives in a cosy little cottage in the countryside. It overlooks the moor, and whenever I look out the window I feel as if I'm free of judgement and criticism. It's small, but that's fine because aside from me she's the only one that lives there. I'm here because Mum is going on a year-long honeymoon with her newly-wedded husband, Jake. Of course, I did not fit into this plan, so I was dumped here.

I've enrolled into Hogwarts, the wizarding school here. But because this year is my last year, my N.E.W.T. year, my last shot at proving that I can play a game that only boys are allowed to play, I've done something stupid.

On the Hogwarts rolls, I'm Francisco. Francisco Trinity.

Male.

Boy.

If you know me, then you know that this is not my idea. I'm smart. Aunt Beth is dumb, and this is her logic. Oh, who am I kidding? I want to be myself, a Quidditch-playing girl, not some random dude. What happens when I take my N.E.W.T.s as Francisco Trinity, then apply for a job or something? They're going to find it a little bit odd that the description doesn't match up. I'm Sierra. But, Aunt Beth is also right - I can't just sit around and cheer falsely while I see the Snitch shimmering in the air, right above the Seeker's head, and long to be out there myself. I need to play Quidditch, I need to fly out there with the Beater's bat. I need to whack that Bludger at the other team's Keeper. Knock someone off their broom.

I already know how I'm going to have to look. I've practised the charm. Francisco-Trinity-me looks like a male version of normal self. Instead of shoulder-length curly brown hair, it is short. Not in ringlets, but like those superstar curls that girls always drool over. My eyes, a soft green-gold colour, stay the same, and my eyelashes, already long, must make me look slightly odd. I am the same height, as a boy, and I suppose about the same weight. I'd never been fat, and I am always at the peak of my fitness, so transforming my body into a boy's means that I look strong. Of course, changing how I look doesn't change my abilities, so I'm just as I've always been.

There's a catch, of course. A meagre spell won't make me look like a boy for a year. It has to be reapplied every nine hours, or else it'll fade and die. It 'breaks' when touched by water. And, the only part of this that is easy for me - there's a counter-spell. Thank goodness. Gosh, it would be awkward going to the bathroom.

So I hate Aunt Beth. But I know deep down that I'm glad she's done this. Maybe this year I'll have a chance to prove myself.