Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction created sorely to satisfy my imagination. Harry Potter and anything/everything related to the novels belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing in this fanfic that might be recognizable as belonging to the canon of HP.


Chapter 9 The first game of the season

Merlin bullied me into having to do more reading, and after almost a week of research added to my work load, I was ready to call quits on him.

Not that I normally was a quitter, it's just that there was so much for me to do, and so little time for it during the day that I thought it best to stop. The 'darkness' the portrait claimed was in me only affected me one night a month, whereas my classes and homework were a daily thing. For the moment it was more important for me to know the ingredients for Felix Felicis than be prowling the Library for books that would not make my school life easier.

As a sixth year at Hogwarts, without the benefit of having year one-to-five under my belt, I needed every minute of time to catch up to the current curriculum. It pained my heart, but I had to stop researching useless stuff.

So I had planned on telling Merlin my decision, but in the common room there was a special buzz going around that made me forget when I went out.

Its November, so the Quidditch season was to start the very next day with a big game. Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor.

I found out a week ago, when Gemma pinned the announcement on the common room bulletin board. Hestia had been the one standing closest to me when I read the paper, and voiced out my lack of knowledge. All it took was a: "What's Quidditch?" asked to no one in particular, for Hestia Bletchley to turn around to me.

"Of course you wouldn't know." She said in a snobbish way that made me instantly regret stopping to get informed.

I should have stopped listening because of the fact that she was mocking me by telling me what Quidditch was as if I was a child. However, she was doing such a good job in clearing away my confusions that I just paid attention.

The idea of a game played on broomstick wasn't surprising, and it sounded very interesting the more Hestia went on. I forgot the names of the balls and the 7 players as soon as she said them, but I found myself looking forward to seeing an actual game. Especially when I found out that every house has a team, including our own esteemed Slytherin House. Hestia mentioned all the players we had, and of all of them I only knew Regulus Black and Gregor Goyle, who was Gertrude's cousin.

I would have liked very much to see them play, however they wouldn't have a match until the end of November. For the moment I would have to satisfy my curiosity with the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor teams. The Slytherins were all planning on rooting feverishly for Ravenclaw. It had not been a surprised to me that we were rooting against of main rival house. Hestia had been very clear in the rooting pecking order that we of the House of Salazar followed. First and foremost Slytherin, and even when I had no idea if we were good, I agreed. Second was Hufflepuff, and third Ravenclaw. We never rooted for Gryffindor; we always rooted for the team that would be facing them.

I suppose it wasn't a fair thing for me to let centuries old rivalries muddle what could be my free thought, but a sniff of my clothes or of anyone in my House was reason enough to go against the lions. The dungbomb prank was still happening. Our brightest students had searched the common room for charms and hexes, testing every corner. They found a charm on the ceiling, and try as they might to counter it, it remained.

So, my housemates were buzzing with activity for the game. They were making banners and chants, all to the expense of our rivals. Even as in to the game as I was, I stayed well away from the planning, and the excitement.

The game was tomorrow, and today I had class.

Leaning next to a column, I tried to take in a headache. It wouldn't last a minute, but the stress in which my body and mind was made the pain sharper than most times. I had A Guide to Advance Transfiguration clutched in my hand, as the topic I needed to know to finish the day's homework, became clear in my head.

"Faraday, are you okay?"

I looked up at the familiar voice. It was Lily Evans. Her concerned face was enough for me to push any lingering pain away. I collected myself as best I could, stuffing my Transfiguration book inside my bag. In it, I caught sight of the roll of parchment I was using for the assignment, and with the newly learned lesson, I made mental notes of what I wanted to add. "I barely slept."

It's true, I never sleep well, I had so much catching up to do that I tended to stay awake well past midnight just trying to learn all the lessons I needed for the sixth year NEWT curriculum. It was pain inducing work, but by now I was used to it. I gave Lily a half smile as I faced her ready to go to class.

We were friends now. Our camaraderie in the Slug Club meetings led for us to say hello to each other whenever we met, and a random invitation to study together led us to the point where we were now. Lily had other friends, but she humored me whenever I waited for her to go to class. We had three classes together, Charms, Transfiguration and Potions. The first two we had that very same day one after the other with a free period that we both used to study.

Lily sniffed me. "So it's true. They got you today too." I didn't need to ask of who or what she was referring to.

"Got all the Slytherins again, I reckon."

"They were boasting all about it yesterday in Herbology. Apparently they charmed a bag full of dungbombs outside your common room so that every time a student entered the house, one would fly in." Lily said as we began to walk to class.

The idea seemed preposterous, but since it had been happening already for like a month I had no reason to doubt it. "Huh? Grandfather won't be too happy to learn his one job was compromised."

Lily cocked her head as she regarded me. "There you go talking about your portrait. You've never really told me if he's actually your grandfather or what." Though the time we had hang-out a little, I had not held myself much when it came to talking to Lily. It was not that I trusted her or that I wanted her to know, it was merely that I would start babbling on and on with her that sometimes I couldn't stop myself from sharing with her. Sure, I had my big secrets under lock, but most of everything else Lily already knew. She didn't know the portrait was Merlin, and at least that I planned to keep for myself.

I'm sure she wasn't comfortable sharing secrets with me yet, but over parchments of class notes, Lily had told me all about her relationship with Severus Snape. How they had been close friends up until two years ago when the use of a horrible word made her see that Snape had colors in him that she could not condone anymore. Lily told me about her family. I was sad with her as she told me about her father, who had died not so long ago, and that now she only had her mother and sister. Her sister Petunia was also showing colors that Lily didn't like and that pained her. With what we had talked about so far, I was happy with the friendship I had formed with Lily. I had given up the idea of having female friends after my first week in school.

"He's a painting, technically he is not."

I tried not to mind the glances we got as we walked. Of course it was hard. We stood out. Our colors stated us as rivals, but our apparent closeness gave license for whispers. I had already heard all the things they said about us, and I tried to ignore them. It was hard to do so when Lily just wanted to face the gossip head on.

That's when our differences started to be apparent to me. Where Lily was outgoing and straightforward, I was introverted and shady. And don't get me started in appearances. Though Lily and I were the same in height, everything else was different. Lily was slim and lithe; I was curvy and a bit chubby. She was bright with vibrant eyes and hair, while I was dark. My eyes were the color of chocolate, and my hair alternated between brown and darker shades depending on the light. I did have it as long as Lily, but she left it down whenever she wasn't studying. I kept mine in a bun always. Mafalda and Hestia liked to ask me if I was giving McGonagall competition in the tight bun department, but aside from those moments, I tried to ignore the coincidence.

"But are you related to the man who was captured in it?" She pressed, her curiosity always getting the best of her.

I nodded. "Yep. Only family member I know off."

That made her somber. Her face showed her true emotions, and though I don't think she regretted her words, I believe she was crossed as to what to say. "You must feel really lonely." I did not like the sadness in her voice, not when I was the one to cause it. Nor did I like the reality of my situation she spoke of.

"Only when I'm not with you." I smirked at her, batting my eyelashes.

"Oh, I can't deal with that charm!" Lily said swaying over to hug me. It was the very first time she had been physical with me, and she shied away from it swiftly. Our quickly blossoming friendship had clearly made her forget that we only knew each other for less than a month and that was only because I was the only girl in the Slug Club that she didn't dislike. I enjoyed that it was like that, in the sense that we had to stop ourselves to try not to give too much away when in spontaneously it was what we wanted.

"It's a good thing were going to Charms then. Might teach you something about it."

That made us laugh the awkwardness away.


My two sizes too big robes blew in the breeze as I climbed the stairs of the Quidditch pitch. I was trapped between some third years as we went up, but once out in the open I searched for familiar faces.

Standing behind the girls of my dorm, Gemma noticed the movement I had caused. She gave me a look over, as she always did, judging my too-big-for-me donated school robes. I hated it whenever she did that, and I hated it that it happened at least once per day.

Gemma turned around, elbowing Mafalda. Something was said between them, but with the high spirits and commotions, it was impossible for me to hear anything unless it was screamed at me.

This time, Mafalda turned to me and handed me something.

I took it without thinking or asking, and in retrospect I chastised myself for not thinking the worse from them. But what she gave me wasn't bad. It was actually funny.

I was handed two big round pins, the size of the palm of my hand. Both were charmed into having a mangy lion unable to roar, then its body would swirl away to form letters. Again, both had the same thing. They said Gryffindor stinks in gooey green letters. Then, the House jab swirled again, and this time it said Potter stinks. Breathing in a chuckle, I looked at the other one that said Black stinks. The pins sent me into a fit of laughter. Whoever had the idea of making them was brilliant.

All around me, the students of Slytherin House where putting the pins on, and through giggles, I placed both of mine over my chest.

Potter stinks and Black stinks had flashed on my chest three more times by the time the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teams entered the pitch. As I watched them, all I could think was of how I was definitely giving Lily the Potter stinks one. I was sure she would love it if only it didn't say the same of her house.

I had read a book about Quidditch and I was taking flying lessons with the first years twice a week. But it was nothing like I had pictured it. If possible, it seemed more brutal and intense than what I had seen in the book's pictures. They moved so fast in the sky, and at first I had real trouble keeping up. It was amazing how the commentator managed it.

"And first points of the game go to Ravenclaw!" A young voice carried around the stands.

I hadn't even noticed when they got there, so I made an effort to pay better attention. It was hard maintaining the pace to keep up, even more considering I had no idea who most of the players were and I couldn't take the time to read the back of their playing robes.

"Watch out for that bludger – Frazer ducks right in time for Black to swing the bludger away. Nice team work boys. And Boot holds on to the quaffle –heads straight for the Gryffindor goals- can she get pass Spinnit, I wonder? McKinnon and Potter tail her, those Cleansweeps doing a mighty fine job catching up. Here come the other Ravenclaw chasers, can they aid Boot in time? Black and Fisher intervene –and Fawcett goes spinning- Stretton remains. Boot faces Spinnit, throws the quaffle. Oh! The quaffle bounces off the ring, Potter is now in possession. The Golden Snitch! Wright and Edgecombe dive. Clearwater and Goldstein deflect the bludgers, but the Gryffindor Captain always has his back protected. A dodge to the side and the arm of Black leave Potter to bolt to the Ravenclaw goals. Fawcett in pursuit. What is that bludger doing?"

And indeed what was it doing? Hadn't the commentator said it, I wouldn't had noticed until it was too late. The bludger Black hit went our way. Like a wave in the ocean, the Slytherin students ducked out of the way as the deranged ball flew centimeters over our heads. I too had to crouch. It was an instant reaction that I have to thank the person next to me for provoking. If he hadn't seen the ball coming, I wouldn't have, and I would be being taken to the hospital wing.

Shouts and nasty curses erupted from the Slytherins. When I looked back up to the game, Sirius Black was smirking, looking back at us as he zoomed away.

"And the snitch gets away! Potter throws – points for Gryffindor!"

The crowd at the other side of the pitch went off in frenzy, and in retaliation my side booed, the shock of the bludger attack gone. Again the scoring ball, the quaffle was wrestled between players as they zigzagged in every direction possible.

The game continued in that fashion for a bit over an hour more, and when it ended I was exhausted. Though trilling, Quidditch turned out to be an exhausting experience. I was glad that the next game was weeks away, less I hadn't the time to recuperate. I was exaggerating of course, but I wasn't thinking straight anymore. My bed was in my mind. I needed to hide in it, unless I wanted to suffer the aftermath of the game.

The Slytherins were furious. Not only did the dungbomb prank showed no signs of ending, but we had been deliberately attacked by a Marauder.

And what was worse, Gryffindor won.

I did not want to be in the Slytherin common room tonight.

. . .