First Contact

February 11th, 12:30 pm, Sapphira's Quarters, Foreign Student Wing

Sapphira listened to the commentary playing off the walls, pausing her game of Super Mario Bros. 2 to listen to the score.

"Gryffindor, eighty to zero" came Lee Jordan's voice from the pitch.

Sapphira restarted the game, jumping on a Koopa and sending its green shell forward to knock out a bunch of Goombas. She breathed in deeply, for once she finally had peace during the school day. Better yet, that would mean the entire school would go indoors after the game, leaving the Quidditch field mostly deserted. She glanced at her broom, lying against the wall next to the TV.

A year. Should I fly? Sapphira asked herself for the thousandth time.

"Aaaaaah," she groaned, gnashing her teeth at the pain. Sapphira pulled back her right sleeve to see her scars pulsating. This far from the full moon? What is going on?

She downed an entire vial of potion, watching them slowly fade and the pain stop. Fifteen minutes passed as she completed the level and was about to start on the next one when she heard voices coming from outside her door. Pulling her sleeve back down, she paused the SNES and listened.

Marcus Flint. Him again? Last time we ran into each other it didn't end well...

"Mudblood!" Marcus Flint cursed at Lisa, who was now in tears, surrounded by six jeering Slytherins. None of them saw a newcomer walking up to them silently, her red Stunning Spells taking them down. It started at the back as one by one they fell until only four remained. They all turned to see a newcomer; wand drawn.

"Sons of b****s," she called them, enraging the entire group. "Royal A-holes, pieces of filth, and no-good rich hags!"

Three charged in single file. One took a Stunning Spell to the face, the next his entire body froze up and he face planted, and the third's legs locked together.

"Stupefy," she said, knocking him out.

"Who are you?"

"Never mind who I am."

Marcus barely had time to react as she charged at him. He raised his wand to defend, his jinx sailing harmlessly over her shoulder as she slid on the ground past him: she kicked him in the solar plexus. He crumpled to the ground in pain as a red jet of light knocked him out.

"Sapphira, thanks, but..."

"Help me," Sapphira pleaded.

"What?"

"We need to get out of here and get alibis or we'll be in real trouble."

Sapphira got up and walked over to her door and saw four boys go past carrying long dark robes. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Sapphira slipped out after them, using a Disillusionment Charm on herself as she went. The four she could see, one was the pale boy she'd cursed before, two other burly ones she didn't recognize, and Marcus Flint. She darted from suit of armor to statue watching them. With the four talking in whispers, it was impossible for her to hear anything of what they were saying due to Lee Jordan's (often biased) commentry. Sapphira darted behind a statue, cursing under her breath as two of the four looked back to see what the sound was.

This strange dance continued out across the grounds. The commentary from the match was getting louder and Sapphira knew they must be getting close to the stadium. The troublemakers went underneath the pillars that supported the wooden stands until they came to an open spot behind the team benches were few could see them, but Sapphira knew the players couldn't miss them.

Those sons of a b*****es. Sabotaging a Quidditch match? Unbelievable. And Dementors! Couldn't have picked a better target considering what happened just a few months ago.

Sapphira crept closer to within twenty feet and drew her wand. She waited, her smile getting ever wider as the pale haired boy climbed on top of one of while the other two robed themselves and walked out in full view of the match.

"Locomtor Mortis," she whispered three times.

She couldn't see it, but each time she cast the spell, a pair of legs snapped together.

"Wo...ohho..ohh"

"Goyle, what..." came from the hood.

The one called Goyle buckled and the tallest 'dementor' split in two as both boys toppled.

"What..."

"Ow..."

"Hey..."

The double stacked 'dementor' crashed on top of the other two and all smashed to the ground in a crumpled heap. Sapphira slashed her wand at them again: the robes weaved themselves in knots, trapping the Slytherins inside. Sapphira had to muffle her laugher as the pale faced boy tried to extricate his feet while the one called Goyle pulled on the other end his head stuck inside. She slipped away as she heard feet coming.

"GRFFINDOR WINS!" came from above the stands and she broke into a run back to the castle, to avoid the mob that was sure to come in just a few minutes.

She grabbed a thick volume from her bookcase and began to flip through the pages to find the page she had marked the night before. She had just passed the first few books in the volume when a knock came at her door.

"Who is it?" Sapphira asked.

"Lisa, who else?"

"Come in."

Lisa Turpin entered the room, a certain glazed look over her eyes.

"Lemme guess," Sapphira asked, knowing that gaze all too well. "Your first crush?"

"What?"

"You like a boy? Who is it?"

Lisa groaned, busted. "Anthony Goldstein. He's so cute!"

"I should've have noticed," Sapphira said in a sarcastic voice, trying not to roll her eyes (Lisa gave her a sour look). "Forgive me. My opinion of boys is at an all-time low."

"If you'd just give them a chance..."

"I did," Sapphira said sternly. "I've had two boyfriends or whatever you want to call them. One cheated on me and the other tried to...let's just say he spent two days in the Illveronomy infirmary due to damage to his solar plexus."

Lisa stared at her for a moment.

"But I'll humor you. Gimme the spill? What's so great about Goldstein?"

Lisa spent the next ten minutes drooling on about the Goldstein boy. Sapphira sincerely wanted to return to reading her book, but she stayed put not to offend the girl trying to be her friend.

"What do I do?"

"Do?"

"Get him to notice me?" Lisa asked. "You have experience."

"My relationships ended in disaster. My advice is to wait until you're 21."

Lisa gave her another sour look. Sapphira relented with a sigh.

"Okay, the first thing you need to know..."

Qudditch Field, 8:30 p.m.

The party continued well into the night. At one point, Harry slipped away to put away his broomstick. When lifted up on the shoulder of the crowd, it was all he could do to hold onto the precious broom that was his Firebolt.

His eye alighted on a figure flying around the pitch. Long since deserted both teams and the crowd had left. Harry recognized her when she passed on what had been the Gryffindor goal posts: she dashed by high above and her brown-reddish hair whipping in the wind. He hid in the entrance to the tunnels under the stadium to watch. She dived in a ninety-degree dive towards the ground. Harry wasn't sure what broom model hers was, but it was the slowest descent he'd ever seen. She pulled out, her legs just skimming the ground and rose into a seventy-degree climb slowing until she was almost dead in mid-air. She took her hands off the broom, and it hearkened to the call of gravity. Then she dove like like a homesick angel spun in mid-air followed by two flips accelerating faster and faster she pulled out just feet from the ground. As she skimmed the edge of the field, excitement flooded Harry and he ran out-right into her flight path.

"Ohhhahhh!" she screeched. Sapphira flew off her broom, casting a spell before she landed face first at his feet. She looked at a scrape on her arm, dapped it with a small cloth and then began to walk away, without even giving him so much a glance.

"Sapphira," Harry said.

She froze and slowly turned around. The resemblance between her and Ron's mom after she caught her sons with the flying car was pretty close. "Yes."

"Can you teach me those moves?"

Her anger vanished and he saw a look of longing flash across her features.

"I'm sorry Harry," she said with something Harry hadn't heard from her before: sincerity. "No."

"Are you kidding me?" Harry asked, stunned. "You flew better than half the people who were playing in the Quidditch game just hours ago and you don't think you're good?"

Sapphira didn't really see any way out of this. If I'm mean to him, soon everyone will know how good I am on a broom. Then I'll be in real trouble. Just a little can't hurt.

"I used to be on a Quodpod team," she said.

"A what-"

"Our version of Quidditch. Much funner," she said longingly. "But that was a year ago."

Harry wanted to ask 'why' but something told him she might explode. "Okay."

"What model of broom is it?"

"The Thunderbolt 30," she said. Tricky broom to master, but it's quite formidable if you get the hang of it."

"Firebolt, the speediest broom there is," Harry said proudly.

Sapphira just stared at his trophy with a look of utmost amusement. "Not always the best."

"What?"

"Quidditch doesn't always demand speed."

"I'm a seeker."

"Then that's best for you."

"What?"

"Seeker position demand light, fast brooms."

"So, you know Quidditch?"

A brief awkward silence fell between them.

"Sorry. Got to go. Congrats on your win."

Sapphira grabbed her broom and left. Harry watched to her go, wary after their last encounter. At least she hasn't blown up on me. Still, the only way to prove paternity was a blood sample and he wasn't sure how he would be able to convince her to even think about it.

Sapphira flopped on her bed, punched two buttons on the SNES and the TV and began to start up Mario Kart. She frowned, reflecting upon her most recent encounter with what a book had dubbed the Boy Who Lived.

"Remember Sapphira," she told herself. "Keep to yourself. Trust only a select few. Let them prove themselves."

As the racers took off, she paused the game, thinking. Harry Potter hasn't proven himself. The only way he can do that is by not delving into my past. He's not doing a very good job at it. Why he's so interested?

She shrugged her shoulders, pressed 'start' and pressed the 'B' button, speeding off into first place ahead of Wario.