Chapter 4: Blood Isn't Everything, But Quidditch Is

Harry's Pov:

The train soon comes to a stop in Hogsmeade, the local wizard village. Both Ron and I stand up quickly, eager to get to the Welcome Feast. I can tell Ron is starving; I know I am. Leia, however, is slower to rise. She moves so gracefully. Even when gathering her things there is no clumsiness about her as she reaches in to the luggage rack for her familiar's basket. Salazar is still sitting in the seat next to Ron's. I turn to the door and open it to confront the crowded corridor. Ron is right behind me. I can hear his familiar, an owl named Pigwigeon, hooting loudly in my ear. Pig is a small, annoying thing, but I suppose he's grown on me in the last year. You get used to him.

I look out and see that the crowd has moved towards the front of the train. There is no one in the back where we are. This makes it easier to get out. Ron and I get into the corridor, followed closely by Leia. I notice that she is not carrying her familiar like Ron and I. (I have a snowy owl named Hedwig.) Salazar's basket is floating along behind her. I look but I do not see her wand anywhere. How is she doing that?

And Salazar…what an odd choice for a name. I have only ever seen that name once before – it is the name of one of the founders of Hogwarts: Salazar Slytherin – pureblood, Muggle hater, and ancestor of Voldemort. Why would Leia's familiar want to be named after him?

Isn't it obvious? I hear Hermione's voice say in my head. Not to me. And anyway, how can a snake pick it's own name? I did not think to question it before. I was too stunned by the fact that there was someone in the world, other than Voldemort, who thought the ability to speak Parseltongue was a good thing. This girl, this Leia Gerwin, is strange indeed. But not strange in a bad way. She's mysterious and interesting. It's hard to tell what she is thinking. I wish Hermione would lay off and give her a chance to prove what she really is, who she is.

By now we've made it onto the platform. I hear Hagrid, the gamekeeper, calling for the first years. I can still remember what it was like to be a first year, in a new place, away from a familiar (if unpleasant) home, scared. I push through the crowd towards the carriages behind Ron who went on ahead while I was reminiscing. Ron finds an empty carriage and climbs in. I hand my stuff in to him and start to join him myself, but the sight of Leia stroking the mane of the thestral that pulls the carriage makes me pause. The thestrals are visible to all who have witnessed death. What could Leia have seen that would allow her to see these horse-like creatures? The thestral wraps one of its wings around her as a harsh autumn breeze blows by. I call to Leia and she follows me into the carriage, but not before whispering something in the creature's ear. As she climbs up behind me I can hear the thestral whiney and neigh as though it hates to see her go.

Leia sits beside me, starring out into the night. The bright moon reflects in her eyes. Are those tears casting so much light? I think about asking her why she can see thestrals but decide against it. It is none of my business. Besides, if she tells me about her experience, she will expect me to tell about mine. Even the memory of Cedric Digory's murder, just now fading from detail only slightly after two years, still makes my heart stop and my blood run cold.

"Bloody hell. Can't this thing move any faster? I'm starving!" The sound of Ron's voice breaks me out of my reverie. I hear Leia laugh. She nods.

"Same here," she says, smiling. Then, suddenly, her smile changes to a slight frown, as if she is puzzled or concentrating on something. "Would either of you know where new students who are not first years go to get sorted?"

"I would assume you meet with the first years and get sorted with them," I reply. "We can help you find Professor McGonagall when we reach the castle. She will know what you should do." Then I remember that she has not yet told us what year she will be in. "By the way," I ask, "what year will you be in?"

"Seventh," she says, the smile returning. "Dumbledore and I worked it all out a couple of weeks ago." Then she pauses. "Are both of you in the seventh year as well?" I nod in response. "Then perhaps…" she continues, "perhaps you can tell me something. Do you know how a person should go about getting on their house's Quidditch team?" My face lights up in surprise and excitement. She plays Quidditch, too?

"Pardon my asking, but are you any good?" I ask, practically holding my breath in anticipation. Gryffindor is in need of two new chasers. Of course she would have to get into Gryffindor house to play on the team, but I won't let that fact dampen my spirits yet.

Leia laughs. Her laughter sounds like wind whispering through the trees. "Well, I don't like to brag."

Ron is on the edge of his seat from anticipation. I think he loves Quidditch even more than me, if that's possible. "Go on, brag," he says.

I laugh. "Go ahead. Tell us about your Quidditch career. Tell us everything. We'd really like to know." I really hope she's what I've been hoping for in a chaser for Gryffindor. She looks kind of startled by our reaction, but seems to recover as she begins to speak.

"Ok then. I have been a chaser for England's Quidditch team, the Royal Renegades, for five years. Many in England regard me as one of the best chasers of the century. I was with the team when it won the World Cup in '93 and '96. I also hold the world record for most points scored in one game and in one season. I do not know what else to tell you." She pauses and looks at us questioningly.

"That's plenty," Ron says, breathless. "Wow…a celebrity. On our team. I knew I'd heard your name before. Those Slytherins will never stand a chance with Harry as seeker and Leia as chaser…" He trails off, lost in his own thoughts.

"Ron," I say, jerking him out of his fantasy, "she's not in Gryffindor yet. Who knows if she even will be?" He slumps down in his seat, disappointed.

Leia looks puzzled. "Would either of you care to explain what just happened here?"

"Oh, sorry," I say, apologizing for Ron's rudeness. "It's just that Gryffindor needs two new chasers and –"

"You have an opening?" She cuts me off, looking excited. "I love Quidditch! I wouldn't let you down."

"I don't think you would, but you have to get in Gryffindor house first before you can play on the team."

"Oh…right...I forgot..." She looks crestfallen. She returns to staring out the window. She sighs. "It's hopeless. I'll never get into Gryffindor."

I stare at her. "Why not?"

Without turning around, she mumbles, "My parents."

"I still don't understand." I really am confused.

"All of my ancestors, dating back to the founding of Hogwarts, were in Slytherin. My parents were Slytherins. I was raised to be a Slytherin. I have to admit though, I don't care for half of it."

I sit there, in my seat, staring wide-eyed at her. She hadn't seemed like the type.

I hate to say it, but I told you so, I hear Hermione's voice say. I shake my head. I like her too much. She's too nice. She can't be a Slytherin. She just can't be…