Chapter 10- Call it Quidditch

Avril gave herself one more glance over in the bathroom mirror, trying to determine whether she was satisfied that she had successfully removed all evidence of her meltdown ten minutes prior. She had washed her face with cold water in hope that it would reduce the red puffiness of her eyes, brushed her hair and straightened her robes, hoping that they wouldn't notice. She sighed.

"What do you think?" she asked the mirror. "Do I look like I've been crying?"

"Not really dear," the mirror responded in its motherly voice. "What do you think Samuel?"

The mirror next to the one she stood before, reflected her critically. "Hmm, I suppose its noticeable if you look close enough."

Avril yet again wondered why they'd allow a male mirror in the girls' bathroom but actual boys were barred from entering- even male portraits couldn't enter. She though it a severe oversight on Dumbledore's part.

"Thanks," she said, shouldering her bag.

"Not at all dear."

"It's not like we have anything else to do," Samuel grumbled as Avril walked out of the bathroom.

Avril really wasn't sure what to think when she found Professor Dumbledore waiting outside the girls' bathroom for her. It was slightly perverted and creepy but then…it was Dumbledore; he's probably done stranger shit than that. The old man in lime green robes and orange stars smiled jovially at her, his blue eyes twinkling incessantly.

"Ah, Miss Diggory," Professor Dumbledore said, falling into step beside her. "I regret that I haven't had time to pass on my condolences about your mother."

Avril gave a tight, forced, smile. "That's okay Professor, I wasn't expecting you to."

"Which makes it all the more unforgiveable," Dumbledore said. "When my own mother passed away, I was given some words of wisdom, would you care to hear them?"

Avril frowned. "Er, sure."

"Bingle-bongle, dingle-dangle, yickety-do, yickety-da, ping-pong, lippy-tappy-too-ta."

Avril paused, blinking. What?

"I know," Dumbledore said sympathetically. "It is quite confusing but then so was the man who gave it to me. He was on his 9th face you know."

Avril could have cried with relief as they entered the Great Hall. But she didn't. That was completely counterproductive to what she had just spent that last fifteen minutes doing.

"Ever so sorry Professor," Avril said. "But I think I'm wanted over by Ron."

"Of course, of course." Dumbledore waved her off.

Gratefully, Avril all but ran over to Gryffindor table, sitting down between Ron and Harry, grabbing a bread roll as she did so.

"Why were you with Dumbledore?" Ron asked through a mouthful of food, making everyone in the near proximity struggle to keep down their various meals.

"He was imparting some words of wisdom," Avril shrugged, mentally trying to shake off the sheer befuddlement she had felt whilst talking to the headmaster. Seeing Hermione's excited face, she hastily added, "Don't ask me what they were, I can barely remember them myself."

"Really," Hermione scolded. "When Professor Dumbledore gives you advice, you should at least try to remember it."

"Don't you have an eidetic memory though?" Harry frowned, looking up from his third slice of treacle tart. "How could you have…"

"Harry, I am trying to remove the memory entirely; I have only partially succeeded. By the end of the day, I hope to achieve blocking it completely."

"Why would you want to…"

"So," Avril said abruptly, effectively cutting off Hermione. "Got any more news on Flamel yet?"

.

Harry had just finished telling his friends about Snape's sudden desire in a change of career (he was refereeing the match against Hufflepuff) when the answer to all their problems came in the form of Neville Longbottom jumping through the portrait hole, puffing like a steam train and sporting a nasty graze on his rounded chin.

"Neville? What happened?" Ron asked over the laughter of Gryffindor House.

"M-Malfoy," Neville whimpered. "He was waiting outside the library. He said he wanted someone to practice on."

Avril glowered, pointing her wand at the timid lion, making him cringe back, and cast the counter-curse, thereby freeing Neville's legs. "If you'd excuse me," she snarled. "I have to go and speak to my cousin."

Avril made to storm out of the common room but was pulled back by Hermione, who was spouting off some nonsense about never making it back before curfew and getting into trouble. She eventually calmed down when Neville begged her not to go after Draco.

"You've got to stand up to him, Neville," Ron said. "You can't let him walk over you!"

"He's right," Harry said, digging around his robe pockets before pulling out a chocolate frog. "Here," he said, handing it over. "Your worth twelve of Malfoy and don't you forget it."

Neville gave a wavering smile. "Thanks. Do you want the card? I know you collect them."

Harry accepted the card and the quartet watched as their fellow Gryffindor trailed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Harry looked down at the card, flipping it over.

"Dumbledore again," he said. "He was my first…" The-Boy-Who-Lived gasped. "I found him! Listen to this: 'Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard Grindewald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood and his work in alchemy with his partner Nicholas Flamel.'"

Before anyone had chance to say anything, Hermione leapt up shouting, "Wait here!" before running up to the girls' dorms at a speed nobody knew she possessed. Avril, Harry and Ron all exchanged a look that had been designed specifically for their bushy haired friend.

The three friends that had been left behind, jumped in unison as a large musty book was slammed onto the poor oak table. Hermione had a sort of wild look in her eyes and a terrifying grin on her face. Avril found it highly disconcerting, more so that Dumbledore waiting outside the toilets for her.

"I can't believe I didn't think of this before," Hermione ranted, flicking through the pages. "I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading…"

"Light?" Ron repeated, aghast.

Hermione effectively silenced him with a withering glare, before slamming her hand down on the right page. "See! Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!"

"The what?" Harry, Ron and Avril said blankly.

"Honestly, don't you three read?" Hermione chastised, shoving the book towards them rather violently. "See for yourselves."

A few minutes later, Avril looked up. "So basically, Nicholas Flamel is really, really, old, an opera lover, and him, along with his wife Perrenelle, are in possession of a stone that can turn things into gold and make you immortal."

"Essentially, yes," Hermione agreed.

"No wonder Snape wants it," Harry said, looking a bit dazed. "Anyone would want it."

"The bragging rights," Ron nodded.

Avril hesitated. "About that…I don't think its Snape we have to worry about."

Her three friends all stared at her as though she had just revealed to them that she was pregnant with either Fred or George's (because really, who could tell them apart?) baby.

"Are you out of your mind?" Ron asked. "You know what Harry saw, what we saw on Halloween, and what Hermione saw in the match against Slytherin."

Avril still looked sceptical but, "I guess. But I hold bragging rights if its someone else."

.

The Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch Match was soon upon them and Avril found herself unsure of who to support. On one hand, she had Gryffindor, which she was obligated to support out of house pride, and on the other she had Hufflepuff, which she was morally obligated to support because her brother was on the team. She sighed and moaned all morning until Hermione snapped at her to support both and save them all their sanity.

And it was so, that in the crisp morning air, Avril walked with Hermione and Ron out to the Quidditch pitch clasping a Hufflepuff supporting flag and sporting her Gryffindor scarf. All three had their wands with them, though Avril insisted they wouldn't need them, and had been secretly practising the leg-locker curse (inspiration taken from Draco) just in case Snape tried anything funny.

They battled for their seats in the stands, barely able to hear each other over the shouts of their fellow Gryffindors. Snape was already standing in the centre of the pitch, looking thoroughly displeased to be there, broom in hand and a silver whistle around his neck. Silently laughing at the sour potions master, Avril turned her eyes to the teachers' stand.

"Oh good, Dumbledore's here!" Avril cried, throwing her wand in her back pocket, wondering what a certain 'uncle' would say about that. "No-one will try anything with him here."

Ron and Hermione exchanged uncertain glances but put their wands in their pockets, holding themselves awkwardly so that their hands were in the perfect position to delve into the fabrics and snatch up their wands in case anything should happen.

The match was soon underway, and unlike everyone else, Avril didn't cheer, not sure whose name to cheer without seeming biased. It's not like she could say two names in precisely the same moment.

"How long do you think it'll take Potter to fall off his broom this time? Five…maybe ten minutes?"

Avril and Ron spun around to see Draco standing there looking insufferably smug, with his two cronies flanking him.

"Shut up Malfoy," Ron snapped.

"Or what Weasley? Are you going to set Longbottom on me?" Draco taunted, glancing at Neville who was watching the 'conversation' apprehensively.

"I'm…I'm worth twelve of you Malfoy," Neville said, stuttering at first but ending it with a sense of firm closure.

Avril beamed at the boy whilst Ron said, "You tell him Neville."

"I highly doubt that," Draco sneered. "If brains were gold you'd be poorer than Weasley." He paused. "No, I don't think that anybody can get as poor as that, not even a Mudblood."

Ron let out a scream of outrage and threw himself at the smirking blonde and after a moment's hesitation Crabbe, Goyle and Neville joined in too, throwing punches as if they were sweets. Avril just let out a long suffering groan.

Now, don't get her wrong, Avril loved a good fight as much as the next person, just not when it's between one of her best friends, friend, two thugs and a cousin who she was just beginning to get on good terms with. This did not do well for those good terms.

"We won!" Hermione shouted behind her. "We won! We've overtaken Slytherin in the lead!"

Avril rolled her eyes, not entirely sure how she could've missed the fight. Sighing, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the brawling party, "Insepario!"

Invisible hands flew in and grabbed the four boys by the scruff of their necks, throwing them apart. Crabbe and Goyle were both sporting nosebleeds, Neville was unconscious, Draco had a nice purple black-eye and Ron had a cut on his lip and another above his eyebrow.

"Is this what a pureblood should get up to?" Avril asked innocently. "Perhaps I should write to Uncle Lucius and ask, maybe Mrs Weasley too, just for a second opinion."

"NO!" Draco and Ron shouted together.

"In that case, Ron, you'll give me the last of your strawberry ladles," Avril said. "And Draco, you'll help me take Neville up to the hospital wing. Understood?"

Both boys nodded fervently, whilst Crabbe and Goyle wandered off, blood still rushing down their faces. Avril wrinkled her nose, sincerely hoping that what she saw of them was all just an act and not a result of inbreeding. She didn't think she could take turning into that.

.

Avril stepped into her common room not expecting a riotous party to be taking place with slightly intoxicated seventh years and a grinning Fred and George milling in and out of the laughing, dancing and shouting crowds. She found she could barely make out The Weird Sisters playing in the background. Despite how hard she tried, she could not stop the grin that formed on her face.

"Avril!" Fred cried, gesturing incessantly for her to walk over even though himself and George were battling to reach her themselves. "How is our favourite first year?"

"Good," Avril said, "Are all Gryffindor parties like this?"

"Nah," George said, "The ones-"

"-when we wind the Quidditch Cup are better," finished Fred. "George and I-"

"-take a trip to Hogsmeade and get more-"

"-alcohol than necessary and enough-"

"-fireworks to blow up-"

"-the common room," Fred said with a maniacal grin that Avril found herself reflecting.

George pressed a bottle of butterbeer into her hand. "Don't tell your brother-"

"-he made us promise not to let you-"

"-drink anything other than pumpkin juice." George grinned, "He said nothing-"

"-about giving you something else-"

"-and it's hardly our fault if we just-"

"-happen to be looking away when you take a sip," Fred finished.

Avril laughed. "He really should learn to be more specific."

"He should," Fred agreed, nodding his head solemnly.

"I mean, he's in our year-"

"-and you're his sister-"

"-it's quite vital for his own health and well-being," George finished.

Avril continued talking to the twins for a bit longer before drifting off and eventually getting pulled onto the dance floor by Seamus, who had gotten shamelessly drunk on his Irish liquor that his brother sent him each month. She briefly wondered what Cedric would say if he could see her now. Probably just sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose, before confiscating her butterbeer and walking away.

"Hey! Avril!" Ron called, fighting his way to the dance floor where Avril was still dancing with Seamus. She had to admit, the boy could dance, but so could she, and together they were quite simply showing up everyone else.

"Hey Ron, what's up?" Avril asked, laughing as Seamus spun her around.

"We need to talk to you," Ron said, grinning at the sight before him; recognising teasing material when he saw it. "It's about you-know-what."

Avril groaned. "Seamus, I have to go."

"Nay fair maiden!" Seamus cried, his words slurred. "Who else am I to dance with?"

"Lest I sure Lavender would love to dance," Avril said. "I am not restful. I must bid thee farewell mine knight."

With these words, Avril twirled away, dragging Ron with her, quite pleased that she hadn't lost the skill of speaking the words of Shakespeare. Harry and Hermione were waiting by the portrait hole, being accosted by Lee Jordan, who was trying to sell them something. Looking visibly relieved, Harry and Hermione quickly used Ron and Avril as their escape and darted out of the common room, choosing to take up residency in an empty classroom.

"Well?" Avril demanded. "What was so important that you felt the need to drag me away from a perfectly good party?"

"Well…" Hermione started but then her eyes narrowed on the bottle of butterbeer. "Were you drinking?!" She shrieked.

Avril winced. "No. It's butterbeer; they sell it to third years on Hogsmeade trips so I highly doubt its alcoholic. Besides, you should see Seamus."

Hermione relaxed a little before prompting Harry, who in turn revealed his story about his pastime as a stalker and how he followed Snape and Quirrel to the Forbidden Forest. By the time he had finished, Ron looked triumphant.

"See!" Ron cried. "Now you have to believe its Snape!"

"I still don't think its Snape," Avril said. "I mean, Harry didn't even hear the whole conversation, did he?"

"Deny it all you like," Ron said. "It's Snape and you know it."

Avril rolled her eyes. "Can we get back to the party now?"

The party went on into the early hours of the morning, and not even Professor McGonagall complained. Of course, somebody had to be the killjoy, and so Percy sent the whole house packing at 3 o'clock using the pathetic foreign concept of 'sleep's as a way to pass his authority.

.

Weeks passed and in those weeks the four got into the bad habit of standing outside the door, ear pressed flat, listening for Fluffy every now and then. And, much to Avril's amusement, Harry and Ron had grown quite defensive of Professor Quirrel, and could be seen sending him reassuring smiles daily.

In other news, the teachers had begun piling them up with homework more than ever in the excuse that, the far-away exams, were looming ahead. Unfortunately for them, Hermione was in much the same mind-set and had taken to colour-coding her notes and drawing up study time-tables. This wouldn't've bothered Avril, if it wasn't for the fact she was pestering them to do the same.

"Come on Hermione," Ron whined. "The exams are ages away."

"Ten weeks," Hermione snapped. "That's like a second to Nicholas Flamel."

"Yeah, but we're not hundreds of years old," Harry pointed out.

"Besides," Avril added smugly. "Eidetic memory, remember? I don't need to revise."

The disagreeing trio were then silenced by Hermione's withering glare, and quickly turned back to their homework. If looks could kill…

One Saturday afternoon, the quartet were sitting in the library puzzling over a particularly obscure demand they had received from Snape the day before. None of them could make heads or tails of it and sat there frowning at their slips of parchment, confusion written on their faces. After about half-an-hour, Avril had had enough.

"That's it," she declared as loudly as she dared, not wanting to receive the wrath of Madam Pince. "I'm just going to ask him."

Before any of her friends could anything, she upped and left, striding towards the dungeons with such a determined look about her, students tripped over themselves, trying to get out of her way as clearly she was not going to get out of theirs. Coming to a halt before the potions master's office, she wrapped her knuckles on the dark oak. The door slowly opened, and taking it as an invitation, Avril walked in.

Snape looked up from the essays he was marking and raised an eyebrow. "What can I do for you Miss Avril?"

A small smile almost made its way onto her face- he had remembered her request. "Can you explain this, please?" she asked, holding up the slip of parchment. "It may as well be written in Ancient Greek- "-She paused, frowning at herself. "No, I can read that- It may as well be written in Mandarin for all the sense it makes."

The potions master smirked at the exaggeration and gestured for her to sit down. Doing as she was told, she handed over the slip and waited impatiently for her teacher to read it.

"It appears," Professor Snape said slowly, "That I have given you my N.E.W.T.s class's homework. You needn't do it; I shall simply set more next time."

Avril shifted uncomfortably. "Could you…could you still explain it to me?"

Smirking in amusement, he nodded and asked, "Tell me, what do you know of the Polyjuice Potion?"

.

Avril returned to the library an hour later where her friends appeared to be questioning Hagrid, and judging from the guilty look on his face, it was something interesting. Slipping up behind him, she plucked the heavy tome out of his hands, turning it over so that she could read the title.

"And Amateur's Guide to Dragon Keeping?" she read aloud, frowning. Avril paused. "Hagrid, what do you want with this?"

"Just interested," Hagrid grunted, taking the book back. He looked back at the trio she had left behind and said, "Come down ter see me after dinner. Yeh'll get yer answers 'en."

Avril's eyes followed the giant gamekeeper as he disappeared behind the shelves before snapping back to her friends. "He's so up to something."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all nodded in agreement.

.

The sun was already beginning to dip into the horizon by the time dinner came finished. The four Gryffindors walked out into the cool evening air, bathed in the dying light as they made their way to the edge of the forest where they would find Hagrid's hut. Smoke was swirling out of the chimney and the curtains were drawn but the friends could still see the windows were aglow with warm light.

They stepped up to the large wooden door, knocking loudly. Bustling could be heard inside and then the rosy-cheeked face of Hagrid appeared in the doorframe.

"Come in, come in," he ushered.

A wave of raw heat washed over them as they crossed the threshold; Avril immediately discarding her cloak, stripping down to her white shirt and school skirt. As her friends sat down around her, her eyes narrowed in on Hagrid. The gamekeeper was shuffling from one foot to another and looked extremely nervous.

"You are so up to something," she muttered.

.

The quartet, after wheedling information out of their large friend and somehow becoming accessories to illegal dragon rearing, settled into a rather hectic routine, which involved taking it in turned to the check the third floor and visiting Hagrid's unhatched egg; often babysitting as the gamekeeper still had his duties to adhere to.

"I wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life," Ron would sigh each evening as they tried in vain to make a dent in their mountain of homework.

"Boring," Avril would always respond and then they would all turn back to their essays and mutter profanities under their breaths; though Hermione would always deny it.

One morning, their dreary routine of an extra complicated version of Cluedo upped its stakes in the form of Harry's owl, Hedwig, entering breakfast, carrying a note addressed to her said owner. Absently feeding the snowy owl some bacon, The-Boy-Who-Forgot-To-Die read the not before looking up and leaning forward.

"It's from Hagrid. He says it hatching."

Immediately, Ron and Avril wanted to ditch Herbology and go straight to Hagrid's hut, to which Hermione went up in arms.

"Absolutely not," she snapped.

Ron cowered down instantly under her frightening gaze but Avril had been raised by a Black; she was not so easily cowed.

"But Hermione," Avril whined. "Plants aren't nearly as exciting as partaking in breaking the law."

Without saying a word, the bookworm smoothly stood up and strolled over to the Hufflepuff table, heading straight towards Cedric Diggory. Moments later she returned with him in tow; Avril found herself suddenly higher than her friends as Cedric distribute himself beneath her.

"Cedric, would you please tell your sister that she cannot miss Herbology," Hermione ordered calmly.

The Hufflepuff blinked. "Avril, you cannot miss Herbology."

Avril did not pout. She didn't. "You would agree with me if you knew why."

To this, Cedric simply raised an expectant eyebrow.

After silently asking her friends for the go ahead, she leant up and whispered into her older brother's ear, "Hagrid has a dragon's egg and he says its hatching."

Cedric looked contemplative for a while, before setting his features into a firm mask. "Absolutely not. If you miss Herbology, not only will you get into trouble with Professor Sprout, but with me, and that is nothing compared to what Hagrid's going to be in…" He trailed off, catching sight of a certain blonde cousin of his.

Realising he had been spotted loitering, Draco quickly ran off to the Slytherin table, leaving the conspirators to give each other nervous glances.

.

Avril sulked all the way to Herbology, refusing to speak to the bookworm of the group; feeling rather miffed that Hermione had, had the audacity to bring her brother into it, who, as everyone seemed to know, was the only person she actually listened to. Hermione was fine with this, as she felt she had successfully completed her moral obligation of forcing Avril to go the Herbology, which the petite girl also sulked through.

The second Herbology let out, Avril was sprinting across the grounds like a shot; destination: Hagrid's hut/personal sauna, whichever it was nowadays. Ron was hot on her heels, and after a moment to roll their eyes, Harry and Hermione chased after the group's other half. Hagrid greeted them looking flushed and excited.

"It's nearly out," he whispered, ushering them inside.

The large egg was lying on the table for all to see. There were deep cracks in it and something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise breaking the awed silence. Drawing up chairs, they all observed with bated breath.

All at once, there was a scraping noise and the egg split open; a baby dragon tumbling out onto the wooden table. It wasn't exactly pretty- more of a lizard with wings, bulbous orange eyes and looked as though it'd been dropped in a vat of PVA glue- but Hagrid gushed over it all the same.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Hagrid murmured. He reached a hand to pet it; the dragon had other ideas and snapped at what it probably though a good meal, revealing pointed fangs that strongly reminded Avril of toothpicks; a muggle invention Hermione had explained to her a few weeks ago. "Bless him," Hagrid cooed. "He knows his mummy."

"Er, Hagrid, you do know you're a guy right?" Avril said, looking at the besotted man weirdly.

Hagrid was about to respond, when the colour suddenly drained from his face. He leapt to his feet, taking three huge strides towards the window.

"What's wrong?" Ron frowned.

"Someone was lookin' through the gap in the curtains. It's a kid- he's running back ter the school."

Harry bolted to the door and looked out. Even at that distance, the level of hair care was unmistakeable.

"It's Malfoy," he said grimly.

There was a moment of silence, during which Avril scowled.

"Well, shit."

.

Something about the knowing smirk on Draco's face unnerved the four Gryffindors during the next week; Avril particularly as she had been faced with that smirk far too often in her life.

"There's only one thing for it," Hermione said as they walked to Transfiguration. "Avril has to talk to him."

The look of complete and utter horror on Avril's face was a moment of true appreciation to the sheer skills in manipulating one's facial structure. "Talk to him?" she squeaked.

"Yes."

"But- but that means begging," Avril said, the revulsion evident in her voice. "Begging Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well you better get on your knees and pray to the prat," she snapped. "Hagrid and ourselves could be sent to prison for this."

Swallowing hard, Avril just nodded meekly. Someone up there really had it in for her.

A/N- As you can see, hiatus is over, but its not because I'm not going to update until I have gotten at least 2 chapters into The Memory of Tom Riddle. The only reason this is up was because I wrote it mid-January and only finished typing it up today. Hope you all have a wonderful end of February,

-HazelVex