Prefects and Quiddich Players

Avotica woke the next morning with a feeling of dread. Once again, she woke before anyone else, while it was still dark. Although she hated the Slitherin's, today was to be her last day in this house, and she was dreading the switch. She would be the only mistake the Sorting hat had made. Her parents would most likely disown her, and it's not like she would do any better in a different house.

She heard Jinx meow, and she shushed him. She crept slowly out of bed, trying not to make a sound. She went downstairs in her nightdress, not being bothered to get changed. She was still feeling strangely pleasant from the tonic she had been given in the hospital wing, but the anxious feeling in her stomach had driven most of that away.

At first glance, the common room was empty. Avotica went and sat in front of the fire, on the rug that draped the hard stone ground. She held her hands out to the fire, trying to heat her bare fingers. Her gloves cut off at the fingers, which left them exposed.

A noise behind her made her spin around quickly, her hair narrowly missing the flames. Behind her, sitting crookedly on the lounge, was a Slitherin boy in his robes. He was clutching a broom, the Nimbus 2001, which gave him away as a Slitherin Quiddich player.

The boy was staring at her with a grim expression on his face, but it was hard to tell if he was doing it on purpose, or whether his face was always like that. His face was so squashed up; it looked as if he had been hit repetitively with a bludger. In his case, he probably had. She couldn't tell what year he was in, probably fourth or fifth year.

He made a grunting noise again, and Avotica wasn't sure what to do. She sat there for a few seconds, frozen. It took her a few minutes to realise he was snoring, and that the boy had his eyes closed. It was hard to tell through the dim light of the fire.

The relief that flooded Avotica only lasted for a few seconds, and then fear came flooding back. She could hear footsteps coming from the stairs. Just before the person made it to the foot of the stairs, the fire went out behind Avotica, and she knew it was her fault. Her fear had put the fire out.

She heard whoever it was coming down the stairs stumble on the last few ones. She heard them swear in such a quiet whisper she couldn't tell if she knew the voice or not.

"Who put the damn fire out?" The voice asked. She heard footsteps coming slowly towards the fire. She slowly and carefully moved away, not wanting to be heard. The person paused, shifted, and kept going. She heard the voice mutter something, and the room was filled with the dull light from the fire.

Avotica could see the person now, but he had not noticed her yet. He was tall, dark haired, and a prefect. He looked very superior, and Avotica hoped he didn't blame her for the fire, even though it was her fault.

The Quiddich boy behind them snored, and the prefect spun around, startled. He noticed Avotica as he did so, and she sat as still as possible, trying not to make a sound or move at all.

He stared at her, and she stared back. She wasn't looking at his eyes, but she could sense what he was thinking. Not only was he annoyed that a first year was up this late, and he did blame her for the fire, but he was also concerned about his exams, and that the teachers would soon catch on to the fact that he wasn't doing his night patrol duties.

"What are you dong up this early?" The prefect asked, sounding very annoyed. "Did you put out the fire?"

Avotica found herself speechless. She didn't know what to say. What was she suppose to tell him? "Oh, I put out the fire. I just came down here because I'm anxious about the fact that I'm swapping houses today."

"What are you doing here?" He asked again. Suddenly, Avotica had an idea. It was sly and she would be prying into his personal thoughts, but she didn't know what else to do.

So she looked at him, looked him straight in the eye. She was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion and a mixture of thoughts. He was more anxious than she was, and he was sure that someone would have caught on that he hadn't taken his patrol shift tonight, but he was studying for exams.

"You better do well in your exams," she said quietly.

"What? What's that suppose to mean?" His voice was beginning to quaver.

"You better do well in your exams, or all that studying you did tonight would be a waste. Of course, you must have really needed the study time, since you missed your night shift to study. So, you better do well."

"Go back to your dormitory." His voice was quavering like mad. "Go back to bed. NOW!"

There was a loud snort as the Quiddich boy woke, slightly startled, from his slumber. He made some strange grunting noises, and then yawned. He stretched, grunted and yawned again.

"What time is it?" He muttered in a gravely voice.

"Uh, it must be nearly 6," the prefect said, suddenly distracted. Avotica carefully snuck away from the fire in this short time, getting swallowed in the shadows at the far end of the room.

The prefect seemed to be very confused and distracted. He walked out of the common room, muttering something that Avotica couldn't comprehend. The Quiddich boy stretched and yawned again, and then he went up to his dormitory, dragging his broom lazily behind him.

The common room was empty, and Avotica was alone, like she originally intended. She walked to the fire and sat down in front of it. She warmed herself up again, as she had been shivering in the darkness. And then she concentrated.

She figured that her abnormal abilities were tied with her emotions. She had made things cold when she was afraid. She had made things hot when she was angry. When she was happy, she was able to bring the dead back to life. Avotica began to ponder what would happen when she was sad. She didn't really want to test it out.

So she stared at the fire and concentrated. She was trying to enhance her emotions, in order to control her powers. So she tried to make herself fear something. It was harder than it seemed. When she was just about the give up, she heard something clatter behind her. She spun around to see what it was, but she couldn't see anything. She spun her head back around to the fire, but there wasn't one. Just darkness, pitch black. She had done it; she had put out the fire.

Now came the easier part; lighting the fire again. She knew exactly what to do. She just thought of Malfoy, and the anger and annoyance came almost instantly. When she was so full of anger she thought she might burst, it left her, and the room was suddenly lit by the dull light of the fire once more. It had taken her more than five minutes to achieve this anger, but at least she could do it.

She continued practicing this until daylight broke, about an hour later. She got quiet good at it. It took some time, but she could do it without experiencing the immediate emotions. By the time she had gotten the hang of it, she had gotten quite tired again.

So, yawning, she when back up the stairs and back into her dormitory. She silently climbed into bed, and dozed off almost instantly. A few minutes later, she could hear the distant voices of the other girls in her dormitory as they got up, but she didn't know what they were saying, and she didn't care.

Avotica slept on, relieved that she would not be disturbed because of the Quiddich match on today. Everyone would be at the game, even the Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's.

But Avotica wasn't really into sports, especially not Quiddich. It was just a little boring, watching as everybody chased colourful balls around a big field until someone caught the gold one. She wasn't that sure about the rules, but it didn't seem all that interesting anyway.

When she eventually did get up, it must have been around 9. She got up, dressed, and then went to have some breakfast. The game must have already started, because the corridors were deserted.

She was hungry, so she decided to go down to the kitchen. It was a little more than eerie to be walking down the empty corridors of the huge, magic castle. She walked slowly down the halls, aware of the noise that each step she took made.

She reached the kitchen, but she suddenly didn't feel like going inside. She didn't feel very hungry. She felt Jinx rubbing against her leg, and she knew that he was definitely hungry. She sighed, tickled the pear, and entered the kitchen.

The elves immediately passed food to her, but she got out before it became to extreme. She got away with a fruit bun, a can of sardines and a piece of toast. She spread the sardines on the toast with her fingers, and then gave it to Jinx, who gobbled it up greedily. Avotica slowly ate her fruit bun, savouring the flavour.

She went to the library, taking her time getting there. She looked at every painting that she passed. Some where sleeping, others were looking bored. A few were smiling and waved as she passed, and one or two were just blank frames, where the people in the portrait had gone to visit people in other portraits.

When she reached the library, she opened the door slowly, hoping it wouldn't squeak. But it did, and Avotica was getting a little annoyed at all the noise she seemed to be making. She didn't seem to make so much noise when other people were around, just when she was alone, when it was quiet.

She entered the library and quickly travelled to the back. The best books were the ones hidden away, where people wouldn't normally look for them. Plus, the first few shelves were still full of Lockhart's books.

Avotica grabbed a potions book, hoping that it might teach her more than Snape did. He seemed to think if they couldn't make a potion straight away, they never would be able to. He didn't seem to understand that it took practice and instruction to make things work.

But she found that she couldn't concentrate on the book. She was much too nervous. She was to go to Professor Dumbledore's office at 5 O'clock, and wear the sorting hat once more. She knew it would put her in Hufflepuff.

She wasn't smart enough to be in Ravenclaw, wasn't brave enough for Gryffindor, wasn't cunning enough for Slitherin. Hufflepuff was the place where all the rest of them went, where the people who didn't seem to have much skill at all. They said it was for the loyal and good-hearted, but it was just those who weren't goo enough for the other houses.

She put the book away, knowing that she wouldn't be able to read it anyway. She had to find a way out of this situation. If she had to swap houses, she would probably be considered the mistake of the Sorting hat, the only mistake it had made. Dumbledore knew that she didn't belong in Slitherin.

She would prefer to feel out of place at school and at home, than belong at school and have no home to go back to. If a letter had to be sent home, explain that she had been misplaced, she would be disowned and have to live on the street. Didn't anyone understand that? Obviously nobody knew her parents.

She began to walk between the shelves of the library. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, just wandering. Then, she came across a book that might be able to help her. The History of Hats. It was an old book that looked as if it had been made before books itself. It didn't have a cover, just a bundle of parchment sewn together.

She picked up the book, being careful not to make any of the pages crumble or fall out. She went to a desk at the side of the room and sat down, placing the book delicately on top of the desk. She opened the book.

Dust flew everywhere. Avotica coughed a few times as the dust settled, and then began to look at the index. She grew very excited when she saw The Sorting Hat listed as one of the hats, and began to flip through the pages.

As she did so, a peculiar thing happened. Well, it would have been peculiar if Avotica hadn't been so use to peculiar things happening to her. The book was quite suddenly engulfed in a blue smoke, which cleared almost as quickly as it had come. The book had taken the most magnificent transformation. It was like new; it had a cover, fresh, crisp pages, clear print. It was just like new.

It was then that Avotica realised that she didn't bring things back to live, she renewed things. She turned back time for things, to the way they use to be. This got Avotica wondering.

She had been crying in the toilet, and everything went cold. Everything turned to ice, just like when she was afraid. Maybe she was more afraid than she was sad. She had never really thought about it, but she hadn't really been sad, she had been more afraid. Avotica wondered; if she could make things new when she was happy, could she make things old when she was sad?

She decided to test the theory. She tried thinking of something sad, the saddest moment in her life. It was much harder than she had first anticipated. She didn't have many sad moments, just gloomy moments. Lonely moments, before she was ever really happy. They weren't much good.

Avotica gave up. Enhancing emotions was much more difficult than I first seemed. Avotica had always thought that if she had ever developed powers, she would practice and work until she could control them, but it was harder than she thought. She had never pictured that her powers would be so disastrously crazy.

Avotica borrowed the book before leaving the library. The librarian gave her a suspicious look as she handed her the once scraggly book. Still, she couldn't complain about the great condition of the books when she left them in such bad conditions. She also gave Jinx a withering look, but said nothing about him.

Apparently the game was still on, as the Hallways were still deserted. Avotica walked slowly back to her dormitory, flipping through the pages of the book, hoping to find something that helped. There were pages and pages about the magic that went into the Sorting hat, and how each of the founders put a little of themselves in it too, although it wasn't specific.

By the time she reached the Slitherin common room, she was getting quite frustrated. She had found nothing that was of any use to her. If they were only more specific about the magic used to make the hat… But that would be difficult for the book. It was written in old English, so it was hard to follow, and the spells were differently named than they were today. It was all very frustrating.

She entered the common room and flopped onto the chair in front of the fire, tossing the library book to one side. Jinx curled up at her feet, warming himself at the fire. She sat there, watching the flames dance around on the logs, thinking of something that could solve her predicament. She tried to stay calm, but it was all just too frustrating.

Unfortunately, she wasn't left in peace. Apparently, the game had ended. Slitherin had lost to Gryffindor, and they were very annoyed. The boy that had been sitting on the lounge earlier that day was yelling as he entered the common room.

"What were you thinking? The snitch was right next to your head, and you didn't even notice!" Avotica curled up on the lounge, afraid and trying to make herself scarce.

"I didn't see it!" Said a blonde haired boy Avotica knew as Draco entered behind him. "If stupid Potter-"

"It wasn't Potter's fault, it was yours! If you hadn't been so proud, boasting and mocking that Potter boy, you might have noticed the snitch right in front of your nose!" The boy from earlier was apparently the captain of the Slitherin Quiddich team. "But no, you let your pride get in the way. If you don't keep your head in the game, we'll have to drop you."

"You drop me," Draco said menacingly, "and you'll loose the brooms."

"It's not always about the brooms, Malfoy." The boy chucked his broom at his feet. "It's about how good the rider is." The boy stomped up stairs to his dormitory. The other Slitherin players went up to their dormitory as well.

Draco stayed behind in the common room, quite obviously frustrated. In his fury, he up-turned a table, kicked over a suit of armour, threw a roll of parchment into the fire, and almost ripped out his hair.

All this time, he had not noticed Avotica, cowering in the armchair. He also had not noticed that the fire had gone out quite a while ago.

He sat down next to her on the lounge, frustrated and angry. Even now, he did not notice her next to him. She was too afraid to move, even too afraid to breathe. Malfoy was not a friendly person at the best of times, so she didn't want to be anywhere near him when he was angry.

But it seemed he didn't see her at all, and if he did, he didn't say anything about it. He just sat there, gazing at the blackened ash that was left of the fire. She wanted to get up and leave, to get as far away as possible. It was like Draco was a bomb, waiting to go off. She didn't want to be anywhere near him when he did.

Eventually, when she gained enough courage to move, she slowly slipped off the lounge. Unfortunately, she couldn't do it scarcely enough. Draco turned his head in her direction, and she stayed as still as possible. She looked directly into his eyes, reading his thoughts.

He was depressed and annoyed about loosing the game. Half of him wanted to blame Harry for it, half of him blamed himself for the situation. Even though he was looking straight at her, his mind didn't register that she was there. He was too deep in his own self pity.

Avotica crawled across the room, gathering her book on the way to the stairs. She quickly made her way to her dormitory and closed the door behind herself. She grabbed her dairy and a quill and sat down to write. She had quite a lot to write about.