I growl in frustration as I look at the statistics that Lindsay, my other best friend and the only other employee beside Tyler and I for the Insider, hands to me on a hot pink clipboard.
The chart clearly shows the steadily increasing number of people who have cancelled their subscriptions to our paper. A dark blue line rises from the beginning of the year at Hogwarts to the second month we've been here.
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" I exclaim.
Lindsay shakes her head, taking the clipboard back and marking something with her matching pink quill.
"You need that story, Mickey!" I hear Tyler say from inside of his cubicle.
Currently we're inside the Hogwarts Insider Headquarters, located behind a portrait just inside of the North Wing. I'm sitting in my office with Lindsay across from me, listening to the bi-weekly report on the status of the Insider. Obviously we're not doing well.
Lindsay sighed sadly, then said, not even glancing up from her report, "He's right. It'll make for a brilliant column. Updates on the mysterious James Potter! Imagine how much sales will increase!
"Fine, I'll do it right now."
I storm out of my personal office into the main room of the headquarters. In this larger room there are two cubicles, a small sitting area, and three doors. One is my office, one is the printing room, and the last is the exit. I hurry to the quidditch pitch, hoping to reach him before he returns to the Gryffindor common room.
I throw on my thick black cloak that I had grabbed from HQ and stepped into the freezing December air, wishing I had been smart enough to bring a hat or scarf with me.
When I reached the pitch, I grinned at my luck. Potter was locking up the quidditch locker rooms.
I stride "aimlessly" towards the stands, taking my time and hopefully attracting the attention of the quidditch captain. When I heard an "OI!" I figure I succeeded.
Whirling around, I come face to chest with Potter. Which is saying something, cause I'm pretty tall. "Oh, hey."
"You're not- wait, it's you!" He said in confusion.
"Me?" I ask innocently.
"Cloak girl."
"Rude boy."
He looked sheepish as he ran a hand through his messy dark brown hair. "I'm sorry, that was rather rude wasn't it?" he said.
"Yes, but that's alright. You're forgiven. Now I'll just be on my way," I say mysteriously, still heading towards the quidditch stands.
"On your way to where, exactly?" he asked, smirking slightly as if he knew I didn't have an answer.
"To, um, the stands. Duh."
"Yes, but why?"
"Um, I like the heights?" I question. "I think better up there!" I say more confidently. Ha, lies.
"You like the heights? Then why don't you fly?"
Oh no.
You see, I have a major fear of heights. An extreme fear of heights. Like I haven't been to a quidditch game before because I'd have to sit up in the stands.
"I don't have a broom!" There, I'm a genius.
"Well come on then," he says, grabbing my hand and dragging me to the broom shed. He extracted a sleek, blue broom that I assumed was the newest model. Mounting it, he motioned for me to join him. I hesitated.
To have to perfect story opportunity and face my biggest fear, or to run now and regret it later?
I climb on behind him shakily, looping my arms around his stomach and clinging to him for dear life.
Squeezing my eyes shut as we take to the air, I hear him say, "You like heights, huh?"
"Yep!" I say in mock cheerfulness, gritting my teeth.
"Then you won't mind if I go a bit higher up?" he teases.
"No!"
"Relax, I'm kidding," James chuckles. "Want to tell me what the alternative was rather than facing your obvious fear of flying and what was so awful about it?"
"Obvious fear?" I question. What's so obvious?
"Your squeezing the air from my lungs."
"Sorry!" I exclaim, cheeks reddening. I release my death grip a bit, but don't open my eyes.
As we fly around, I realize I'm about to do something I never thought I'd do. I'm going to make up a story.
And with that terrifying thought, I reach up and squeeze the locket around my neck.
Disclaimer: It's Jo Rowling's.