Glitter In The Air

by TheEmpressOfWhoAskedYou

IN WHICH Jewel Potter would rather think she's having a psychotic break than admit to herself(or anybody else)that she's uncontrollably reading people's minds, and Draco Malfoy is a stuck-up dingbat that likes to play with fire. [humour/hurt&comfort/angst/slow burn]

11. X

X. THE DUEL OF THE CENTURY

That night, I ate dinner at Gryffindor table-and, to my surprise, I found that, after I risked Snape's wrath to stick up for Harry and escaped miraculously unscathed, Ron had greatly warmed up to me.

Harry couldn't keep the stupid grin off his face.

We mostly just talked about their trip to Hagrid's hut that afternoon(when they told him Filch threatened to lock us in the dungeons when we accidentally tried to break into the third-floor, he called the caretaker 'that old git' and said he'd love to introduce Mrs Norris to Fang sometime; apparently, she follows him everywhere when he's up at the castle-he's convinced Filch puts her up to it). Harry tried to talk to Hagrid about how Snape totally hates our guts, him especially, but was brushed off by the gamekeeper who quickly asked Ron about Charlie-the second-oldest Weasley son who, I was interested to learn, is studying dragons in Romania(the oldest, Bill, is a 'Cursebreaker'-and is, apparently, somewhere in Africa at the moment doing something for Gringotts).

Harry seems to think there's a deeper reason behind Snape's hostility that Hagrid, for some reason, wouldn't tell him.

They were all a bit disappointed that I couldn't come, seeing as I was 'helping Tracey', but Hagrid told Harry and Ron to tell me that, if I liked, I could come along while he goes about his gamekeeper duties with Fang(his boarhound, who I had no idea he owned but couldn't wait to meet)after breakfast tomorrow.

"Hagrid didn't seem...upset with me, did he?" I asked hesitantly, crossing my arms tightly.

Harry and Ron looked taken aback and confused.

"Why would Hagrid be upset with you?" Ron frowned.

"In Diagon Alley, he said..."

I looked down at my robes and bit the inside of my cheek.

"...better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," Harry finished in realisation. "He said there wasn't a single witch or wizard who went bad-" he added to Ron, "that wasn't in Slytherin."

He looked back at me pityingly.

"Jewel...you don't think Hagrid's mad at you for being in Slytherin, do you?"

I shrugged uncomfortably and glared down at my plate.

"I don't know. I mean, he didn't exactly seem too fond of my house, you know?"

"Is that why you said you had to help one of your Slytherin friends this afternoon?" Ron said, catching on. "Because you're worried Hagrid's upset with you for being Sorted into Slytherin House?"

"Weren't you?" I spat thoughtlessly.

There was a sudden, awkward silence.

When I glanced over at Ron warily, I was caught off guard to see genuine remorse splashed across his face.

I guess he didn't realise how much his behaviour, and all of this, had gotten to me. He didn't exactly mean to be a jerk about it, I realised, he'd just heard nothing but bad stuff about my house, and the people in it, growing up-from his parents, his brothers...when I ended up in Slytherin, he felt weird(and almost a bit betrayed), and he wasn't sure how to act around me. We'd just met-for all he knew, I could be a total bitch. But Fred and George seemed to like me, which surprised him, and I still hung out with him and Harry and came over to Gryffindor table, screw the rivalry between our two houses. Then I stuck up for Harry against Snape, of all people, and he realised he was being stupid and unfair because, Slytherin or not, I was actually...pretty cool.

Some of my sour/bruised feelings lifted.

An orange rubber band snapped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Don't apologise-I deserved that," Ron admitted, rubbing his neck. "If anything, I'm sorry I've been such a prat."

"You have been a gigantic prat-" I exaggerated teasingly, "but...I suppose I can forgive you. As long as you don't do it again."

"Don't worry. I definitely won't."

We shared a smile.

Witnessing our interaction, Harry looked like he wanted to pump his fist in the air but settled for grinning at us foolishly.

"Hagrid isn't mad at you," Ron added earnestly. "And if he is, there's no way he'll stay mad at you. I mean," he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "I didn't."

Unexpectedly, what Ron said actually made me feel better.

Changing the subject, Harry effectively distracted me from any lingering insecurities by telling me that he saw an article at Hagrid's about the break-in at Gringotts-

"There was a break-in at Gringotts?" I cut in, startled. "But isn't it supposed to be crazy secure?"

Harry and Ron looked surprised themselves.

"She must've been with Hermione when I told you," Ron said, turning to Harry.

"Told him what?"

My eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of the traitors just sitting back and watching as Hermione dragged me away against my will.

"The break-in happened a month ago-" Ron was quick to fill me in, "It was all over the Daily Prophet-but you wouldn't know about it because you wouldn't get that with the Muggles. Someone tried to rob a high-security vault."

"'Tried?'"

"They don't think they took anything, which is odd, and nothing happened to them-and they weren't caught-which is why it's such big news. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

I glanced uneasily at Harry who grimaced in reply.

"What did the article say?" I asked with a hint of apprehension.

"That's just the thing," Harry said, "the break-in happened on our birthday, the same day Hagrid took us to Diagon Alley. And, according to what I read, the vault that was searched had been emptied that day."

"Wait, you don't think...?" I realised with a start.

From the look on his face, he clearly did.

The day of the break-in, Hagrid emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen.

If that was the vault the thieves broke into-which would fit(and explain why Hagrid was so evasive when Harry tried to ask him about it; "Can't tell yeh that. Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."), then they must've been after that grubby little package.

That just rose a million more questions-like where the package was now, what it was, and why Dumbledore sent Hagrid to retrieve it in the first place, as if he'd somehow known someone would try to steal it that very same day.

After breakfast Saturday morning, I nervously made my way down to Hagrid's hut(it's a small wooden cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest).

I'd traded my school skirt for jeans, figuring it wouldn't matter much on the weekend and taking going about while Hagrid does 'gamekeeper duties' into account, but pulled on my white button-down and school robes so it wouldn't be immediately obvious and I could avoid losing anymore house points. My red hair was still in the messy bun I'd worn for the past few days, a few strands escaping here and there.

I found Hagrid-and a large black boarhound-waiting for me out front.

When he saw me, he eased some of the anxiety twisting up my stomach by giving me this huge, beaming grin.

"'Mornin', Jewel!" he greeted good-naturedly, "It's good teh see yeh."

"It is?" I said, taken by surprise.

A hint of hope flashed across my face.

"'Course it is," Hagrid said, his bushy eyebrows pulling down in puzzlement. "Why wouldn' it be?"

"I just-you aren't angry with me?" I asked insecurely.

What was left of Hagrid's smile dropped into a frown.

"Why on earth would I be angry at you?"

"Because I'm a Slytherin," I mumbled, crossing my arms and looking away.

There was a beat of silence.

"-Yeh've been thinkin' I'm mad at you fer bein' a Slytherin?" Hagrid realised. "Jewel..." he stooped down, waiting patiently until I reluctantly met his eyes, "I ain't mad at yeh. Furthest thing from it. I figure it's abou' time Slytherin finally got a good one. You know, Harry told me yesterday all abou' how amazin' yeh've bin doin' with yer school work, and how yeh've made good friends with yer dormmates, and how yeh got all these questions righ' in Potions and stuck up fer him with Professor Snape where nobody else woulda ever dared teh...I couldn' be prouder, hones'ly."

My shoulders sagged in relief.

"Really?" I said, face dusted pink at hearing him say he was proud of me.

Not to mention realising Harry was bragging about me.

"Really," he assured me.

I flashed a tongue-in-teeth grin up at the gamekeeper who smiled back fondly.

"Now, I was jus' gonna do some work in me garden-I grow pumpkins fer Halloween an' they get used to decorate the Great Hall. Takes a bit o' doin' to get 'em big enough. Think yeh wanna give me a hand?"

I pulled off my robes and threw them onto the porch.

Fang barked and nosed at them.

"I'm at your disposal," I joked, rolling up my sleeves.

Hagrid's smile widened, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling.

While we worked, I told Hagrid all about my first week at school.

When he looked guilty at hearing about how bummed I've been because of what he'd said(on top of adjusting to this new place-and way of life without a safety net, Ron's rejection, and Malfoy, that absolute git, exacerbating my fears for his own entertainment), I reassured him that I really am doing great.

As the week went on, things just got better. I made friends with Tracey Daphne and Pansy-Ron and I made up last night, and a bit this morning, and seem to be friends again(or, at the very least, on our way to becoming friends)-and I called out Snape in the middle of class and, somehow, still don't have detention.

"I think, though he'd never admit it," I mused, "I actually impressed him a bit with all that stuff I knew. Potions might end up being one of my favourite classes, even if Snape is a jerk-and literally seems to have it out for me and Harry. Well, mostly Harry. I mean, I enjoy cooking-Alistair's been teaching me how in the interest of 'future self-reliance'-and that's sorta like potion-making. You know, but with poisonous plants, bits and pieces of mythical creatures, possible explosions-and, if you add the wrong thing at the wrong time, you might break out into spontaneous boils...

"-Okay, so maybe it's a bit more like chemistry, but I do science experiments all the time with Alistair too so it's right up my alley-"

After we were done, we went inside for tea and 'rock cakes'(note to self; avoid anything Hagrid says he's 'cooked up himself'; I love him to death, but chief he is not-I'm pretty sure I chipped a tooth trying to get through just one of those rock cakes because I didn't want to hurt his feelings). By the time I headed back up to the castle for lunch, I was sweaty from spending the morning gardening in the hot sun with Hagrid and Fang(who is a sweetheart and I love him-and, if he ever has puppies, Hagrid's promised me two)and my hands, jeans, and shirt were covered with dirt.

I think I might be a tad sunburnt, too.

It was satisfying, though, and a good way to work up an appetite.

Somehow, my pockets ended up filled with rock cakes.

On the upside, as a thank you for all my hard work, Hagrid also gave me a container of pink coconut ice he'd gotten from Honeydukes(the sweet shop that supplies the food cart-which is actually called 'the Honeydukes Express'-on the train; they have a store down in Hogsmeade village just beyond the grounds).

I shared it with Tracey Pansy and Daphne, and it was fantastic.

I even threw one of the pink cubes and hit Malfoy in the forehead when he made a snide remark about me helping Hagrid with his gamekeeper duties.

As if he's ever done a lick of manual labour in his life.

That afternoon, I was off exploring-mostly to put off doing homework.

I mean, what kind of sadists assign homework on the first week?

That's about when I stumbled onto the school library(it's off a corridor on the first floor and I found it completely by accident)and everything else ceased to matter.

The Hogwarts Library is awe-inspiring.

I swear I almost did a dramatic anime faint.

Thousands of shelves containing tens of thousands of books, with hundreds of narrow rows, stretching as far as the eye could see.

Every single book was on something spectacular, and magical, and if I let myself I'd willingly dive into the shelves and never surface. There were all sorts of sections; one on dragons and other magical creatures, one on poetry, law, each of the separate classes taught at Hogwarts had its own section from Herbology to History, a reference section, an invisibility section, and one simply known as 'the restricted section' that's closed off by a rope. All of the books that may be rare, valuable, or considered 'inappropriate' for younger students were hidden behind it-and, according to Madam Pince, books from the restriction section can only be checked out with a written note from a professor.

Irma Pince is the school librarian-as I learned when she came up to me to ask what on earth I was doing(I was just sort of gawking at all the books in the doorway like an idiot, so it was a fair question).

She has a hooked-nose, parchment-like skin, sunken cheeks, and looks overall irritable-and, oddly, like an underfed vulture.

She's possessively protective of the books in the library, short-tempered, and strict to a borderline extreme sense, but she seemed to soften slightly when I told her that I thought the Hogwarts library was incredible-and what I think heaven must be like-and started to fire off questions about her filing system. And, to my further awe, she told me that the library doesn't close until 8 pm. That's three full hours later than the public library I go to(it's on Sherrington Rd, just around the corner from the Morrissey's; it's where I spend most of my free time-because I'm just that cool).

Madam Pince also told me that the books in the library have all these wicked spells on them that prevent them from being defaced or stolen(like any library, you need to sign out the books you want to borrow; you can also put books on hold-Madam Pince showed me the waiting list). She's even added a few of her own, for extra protection(like how if you dared scribble on them, they'd physically attack you).

I'm sure she told me all of that as a warning-like, behave yourself, these books are cursed as hell and they will get you if I don't-but it wasn't really necessary for me. I've always taken very good care of my library books. I love my own books to pieces, sure, but I'm not about to bunny-ear a library book. I hate it when I borrow a book and find I'm missing a page-or some brazen anarchists' written all over it.

With her warning clear, she asked me what I was looking for.

Glancing around in amazement, I admitted that I had no idea-but confidently added that I'd be by before I leave with a huge stack of books to start me off.

"If I wanna read every book in here before I graduate, I better get cracking," I mused, only half-kidding.

Madam Pince blinked in surprise.

I flitted about the library for two hours, at least.

I'd already reserved a seat by draping my robes over it and putting some of the books I'd picked out on the table(there are several tables strategically placed around the library for students to use for study purposes). I probably would've kept on like that forever-or until Madam Pince kicked me out-if I didn't run into Hermione by my table as I returned with another armful of books.

"Oh, Jewel-hello!" she said brightly, a small stack of books in her own arms.

"Mademoiselle,"I greeted teasingly as I carefully placed down my books, heeding Madam Pince's warnings.

And, you know, vague threats.

"I don't remember seeing any of these on our class lists," Hermione commented in surprise as she caught sight of some of the titles of the books on the table. "He Flew Like a Madman-" she read, "Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires-Transformation Through the Ages-Asiatic Anti-Venoms-Magical Theory-Beating the Bludgers - A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch-?"

"I've already read all my school books," I admitted, scratching my jaw. "I'm seriously like a sponge. I have a few personal ones from Flourish and Blotts but I figured, while I'm here, I might as well pick some more up to read in my downtime."

Hermione looked approving.

"I've been wondering when I'd run into you here," she said. "You seem to really enjoy reading a lot-and you had all those books in your trunk. I expected to see you in the library days ago, actually."

"Things have been pretty hectic," I replied honestly, "with the whole 'I'm famous now' thing, and classes, and trying to not get lost in this bloody maze of a castle...I wasn't actually looking for the library when I found it."

"You weren't? What were you doing, then?" she wondered.

"I was on an expedition," I informed her.

"What-?"

"Two words, Hermione; secret, passageways," I revealed dramatically.

She looked like she thought she must have misheard me.

"'Secret passageways?'"

"Yup. I've found two already. I want to know where they all are, just in case I need to give Filch the slip-or need to know which way he'll come running and what areas of the castle to avoid so he doesn't catch me and lock me in the dungeons. I mean, I haven't done anything wrong yet, but I've been told it's important to plan ahead. And besides-this way I'll have shortcuts for when I'm late to class."

"But, I mean-" Hermione looked unsure, "what if you go poking around somewhere you're not supposed to, or in one of those passageways, and you get lost or hurt? Nobody would know where to find you."

I shrugged, seeing her point-and, honestly, a bit surprised that she genuinely seemed to care about my welfare, despite the fact we barely know one another.

"Okay, fair point," I conceded. "But hey, if I go missing, at least you'll be able to tell the professors where to look for my body."

"That's not funny," she frowned.

"Everything's funny," I corrected carelessly. "Life is a comedy. You know, in a tragic, depressing, if you don't laugh you'll cry kind of way."

Hermione stared at me.

"That was also a joke," I informed her wryly, "just in case you were confused. Actually," I mused, "it was a bit more of a sardonic observation."

"But seriously, Jewel-" she said anxiously, "you can't just go sneaking about the castle on your own-you could accidentally go into an out-of-bounds area-"

"Been there, done that," I snorted. "I almost broke into the third-floor corridor by accident on my first day."

"You what?" Hermione exclaimed, starting to speak really fast like she did on the train. "Oh my god-how do you manage to accidentally-didn't you hear what Dumbledore said?-you could've been killed-or expelled-or-"

"Hermione, breathe-" I shot her a look.

Hermione blushed and looked down in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I know I can be a bit-"

"Uptight? High-strung? Nuts?"

Seeing her hurt expression, I rolled my eyes and nudged her playfully.

"I'm a rude, sarcastic, weird, not-so-secretly nerdy, self-professed evil twin. I have no room to talk. And sure, you can come on a bit strong, but, honestly, who the hell even cares? Just do you. Anyone has a problem with it then, clearly, they aren't the type of people you should be wasting oxygen around."

Hermione, after staring at me for a moment, started to smile.

That's about when it finally clicked in my head that she hadn't been expecting to see me in the library-she'd been hoping to. Because she doesn't have any friends, and her stronger personality has been chasing everybody off, and I'm the only person who seems to want to be around her.

A yellow rubber band snapped.

"Do you want to look around together? Or maybe we could finish off our homework-or try out some spells-or just do some reading-"

Seeing that almost desperately hopeful look on her face, and realising I was the closest thing she had to a friend right now...

How the hell could I say no to that?

-No, seriously, how?

"Sure. Why not?"

Hermione positively beamed.

꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ

Surprisingly, studying with Hermione Granger didn't suck. It was nice hanging out with someone that seems to appreciate my nerdy side-and that's as fascinated with magic as I am and wants to learn, and read, everything there is to know about it. We practised some spells further on in our class books-like this wicked charm that unlocks doors(I mean, I can pick a lock in under a minute, but still)and, even though Hermione made me do my homework-and leave the library for dinner, I had fun. I even suggested we meet up again sometime to hang out in the library, seeing as none of my other friends would be into that, and she smiled so widely I was worried she'd hurt herself.

Weirdly, I think I might've actually made friends with Hermione Granger-and, as much of a bossy know-it-all as she could be, I actually kind of like her. I don't really think she's even that bad, she's just overcompensating because she comes from a Muggle household-and likely has the same anxiety and insecurities about fitting in, and being 'good enough', that me and Harry came here with.

It's something I could definitely relate to.

When I read on the bulletin board in the common room that the Slytherins and Gryffindors would be teaming up for flying practice this Thursday, I was ecstatic.

Harry? Not so much.

He was worried he'd end up making an ass of himself-and having Malfoy and his lot there, ready to point and laugh, didn't exactly make him feel any better. I tried to cheer him up by pointing out I'd be there too-and that he'd get to watch me beat Malfoy to death with a broomstick if he's mean to him-but that imagery could only go so far.

I definitely got where Harry was coming from-but, even if I do suck, I was still bouncing off the walls excited that I'd get to literally fly on Thursday.

(not in the way Hagrid and I did to get to the hut-on-the-rock-because that wasn't fun for anyone involved).

Besides, if I enjoy it-and don't suck, I might go out for Quidditch next year.

I've already memorized Quidditch Through the Ages cover to cover, I'm surprisingly sporty, and without soccer I need something to do to take out my repressed bloodlust.

If not, I'll just join the other crazed lunatics shouting out fouls in the crowd.

Not even Malfoy loudly complaining about first years not being allowed to try out for Quidditch, or telling stories(and I use the word stories because I doubt half of them are even true)about his amazing flying abilities and how he had 'narrowly escaped muggle helicopters' on his broom, could bring me down. Almost all of the first years were going on about their amazing feats on broomsticks. The only Pureblood that didn't seem to have a flying story was Neville-and that's because his nan(he was, I was surprised to learn, raised by her-which made me silently wonder where his parents were), wisely, refused to let him remotely anywhere near flying brooms growing up.

He's a bit of a klutz.

Tracey was a nervous wreck-and, with her fear of heights, I didn't blame her. I lent her my copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, hoping it would help.

If I thought Tracey was bad, she had nothing on Hermione.

On the days leading up to flying practice, Hermione often dragged me to the library to research flying, broomsticks, and broom sports.

She also spouted facts about flying to anyone unfortunate enough to sit near her(Neville was just as bad as Tracey-and hanging desperately off Hermione's every word in the hopes that it would help come Thursday). Flying is something you have to learn practically, not from a book, and she was crazy nervous. And just a bit crazy. I tried to tell her that she was freaking out for no reason, but she wouldn't listen. Either you'll be good, or you won't, it's as simple as that(and you can always improve through practice-that's probably why it's called flying practice and not fly perfectly or get out). I mean, humiliating myself in front of the entire class and Malfoy isn't my idea of a good time, but if I'm not magically amazing on a broomstick it won't be the end of the world.

On top of exacerbating his fears about flying practice, Malfoy had also been giving Harry a hard time over not getting a single letter since Hagrid's note in the first week.

Even I get letters, and care packages, from Dakota and Alistair.

Sure, most of them were addressed to both of us, but Malfoy didn't care.

Suffice to say, I had to fight back the recurring urge to crack him over the head with something heavy.

I might just, depending on how flying practice goes.

Walking into the Great Hall with Tracey on Thursday, I listened as she frantically recited passages from Quidditch Through the Ages and, bored as I was, struggled to not tune her out...more than I already was.

"-but what if I-I mean, I know how to properly grip a broomstick, I just don't understand-" she rambled as I mm-hmmed and aahed and nodded where necessary, "if I don't look down, I could probably-"

Fed up, I grabbed her elbow and stopped her near Hufflepuff table.

"Mate, just talk to the flying instructor and tell them you're shit-scared of heights," I stated obviously. "Or, if all else fails, invent some mysterious illness that prevents you from participating."

Tracey actually seemed to consider it.

The 'mysterious illness' bit, I mean.

"How's an allergy to leaving the ground sound to you?"

I snorted, half-hoping she was joking.

"You're almost twelve, right?" I checked, getting an idea.

She nodded slowly, wondering why I was asking.

"Just tell them you have cramps or something," I advised. "No one asks questions if you say you have cramps. Some of my f-" I barely stopped myself from saying foster sisters, "friends," I said quickly, "older sisters-Muggle friends back home, you wouldn't know them-used to use that as an excuse to sit out on Phys Ed all the time."

"You, Jewel Potter, are a devious evil genius," Tracey decided after a moment of consideration.

I let out a fake evil laugh.

"You've discovered my secret, puny witch!" I exclaimed melodramatically in a purposely god awful Transylvanian vampire accent. "With such sensitive information, there's no way I can let you live-I must do away with you!"

I wove my hands at her wildly.

Tracey shoved me away with a groan that sounded a bit like a laugh.

"I take it back, you're still a lunatic."

I grinned, moving to retort-when I caught sight of Malfoy standing behind Neville at Gryffindor table holding a weird-looking glass ball filled with smoke.

Ron and Harry were on their feet, glaring him down.

Before a fight could break out, McGonagall poofed into existence(she's like a bloodhound-or Spider-Man; she just senses when shits about to go down).

"I'm gonna go see what's going on-save me a seat?" I asked absentmindedly.

"Sure," Tracey said dryly, "I'll just go freak out some more with Daphne while she and Pansy tell me to suck it up."

I was just heading over when Malfoy dropped the glass ball into Neville's hands and walked off and, just our luck, we ended up in each other's way.

"Malfoy," I greeted mockingly, crossing my arms.

Malfoy glared right back, mirroring my stance.

"Potter," he sneered. "Move."

"I was coming this way first," I retorted. "If anyone should move it should be you. Ever heard of ladies first, dingbat?"

"No, but I'll remember that for if I run into any ladies," Malfoy taunted.

"That's a fair point," I conceded smartly, "you are the more ladylike of the two of us."

Malfoy's face hardened.

"Watch it-"

"Watch what? What exactly are you gonna do, Malfoy?" I challenged.

Malfoy took a step forwards leaving us uncomfortably close.

"Move-before I make you, Potter. And don't think I won't."

I just rose my eyebrow mockingly.

"Wait, are you trying to be intimidating?" I feigned an air of great surprise. "Sorry, I didn't get that-I can't take you seriously with your hair slicked back like that-and you're, like, a good centimetre shorter than me-" I went as far as holding up a hand and pretending to measure the distance between the tops of our heads-which I, of course, very obviously exaggerated, "you know, if you ask me-"

Malfoy's expression twisted.

-Probably because of the whole 'lording our not even noticeable height difference over his head(and making fun of his hair...which I still seriously want to mess up, like, constantly)' thing more than anything.

Someone's a bit touchy.

"Do you really think I care about the opinion of an orphaned blood-traitor?" he interrupted spitefully.

My smirk dropped.

"Oh, you can talk," I shot back coldly, "at least I'm not a stuck-up, sheltered, attention-seeking dingbat who made friends with the dumbest, and biggest, idiots in his house because they're the only people that can stand him."

We locked steely glares.

Crabbe and Goyle bristled and glared at me threateningly.

Suddenly, a throat cleared-McGonagall, again.

"Is there a problem, Malfoy? Potter?"

After a beat, I removed my glare from Malfoy to shoot the professor a lazy smirk.

"Malfoy and I were just discussing the weather-speaking of the weather," I added, "you're looking ravishing today, Professor-have you done something with your hair?"

McGonagall looked at me dryly.

She loves me, it's obvious.

"No," she said shortly.

"And thank god-never change, you're perfect just the way you-"

"Back to your house table, Potter. Now."

"Yeah, okay," I conceded, hands up in surrender as I spun on my heel and walked back the other way.

"There is something seriously wrong with you," Malfoy stated under his breath as he followed just behind me.

Skirting the high road, I ignored him.

"You couldn't just move? Or go around?" Pansy asked me in exasperation as I sat down between her and Daphne.

"And let that humongous prat win? Not likely," I scoffed.

꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ

Leaving the castle with Daphne Pansy (Bulstrode) and Tracey around half-past three for flying practice, I could hear Malfoy going on about his stupid helicopter story(I highly doubt he even knows what a helicopter is)behind us. Forcing myself to focus on my excitement, and not let that prat ruin this for me, I pushed away my irritation. Our flying instructor, a yellow-eyed witch with short greying hair named Rolanda Hooch, was already waiting for us at a grassy area on the opposite side of the grounds to the forest.

There were two rows of twenty broomsticks, give or take, laying in the grass in front of her.

As we waited around for the Gryffindors to arrive, I distractedly ran my fingers through my hair, ruffling it.

Finally, a large group of students made their way toward us.

Spotting Harry amongst them, I perked up.

"Scotch tape!" I hollered, waving wildly.

Harry's sullen expression brightened and he wove back.

"Hi, J," he said as he and Ron reached me.

"'J?'"

I blinked, taken by surprise.

Harry blushed faintly.

"It's a nickname-you know, like how you call me 'Scotch tape' and Mr Morri-uh, Alistair calls you 'Bones'-but if you don't like it-I mean, I don't have to-there aren't a lot of ways you can shorten your name-"

"If you want to give me a nickname, by all means," I reassured him, a small smile on my face. "But...maybe we should brainstorm a bit, yeah?"

"Okay, sure," he agreed in a whoosh, smiling sheepishly.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Madam Hooch barked as she stared us all down. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

We all lined up, Harry and Ron moving to stand across from me while Daphne stood to my right(with a once again visibly anxious Tracey snagging the spot on her other side)and Pansy my left with Bulstrode beside her.

Harry's nervousness had resurfaced.

"Stop worrying-you'll do fine," I told him, leaning forwards and lowering my voice. "But, you know, if you do fall flat on your ass," I cheekily added, grinning impishly, "at least it'll give me a good laugh."

Harry didn't look amused.

Turning my attention to the time-worn, battered, and splintered broomsticks in the grass, I silently wondered if Madam Hooch was having a psychotic break and trying to kill off her students(-it could happen). Or maybe this is, like, a natural selection thing and Hogwarts is trying to thin out the duds?

-my brain is such a weird place to live.

"Stick out your right hand," Madam Hooch was saying as I frowned down at the pitiful-looking flying broomsticks, "over your broom and say 'Up'!"

"UP!"

Instead of blindly shouting my head off like a dork(for once), I observed my fellow classmates for a moment before taking a deep breath.

I held a hand over my broomstick.

"Up!" I ordered forcefully.

To my surprise, it shot up into my hand.

Looking up to see we both had our broomsticks already, Harry and I grinned at each other.

When she thought nobody was looking, Tracey slyly picked up her broomstick.

Hermione's just rolled about on the grass.

Neville's didn't budge.

Eventually, everybody was gripping their broomsticks.

Madam Hooch demonstrated how to mount them properly without toppling off then-after we'd all followed her instructions-walked up and down the two rows correcting grips and adjusting people here and there. To my delight, she didn't just not stop by me-she corrected Malfoy(the kid that's been bragging about how amazing he is all week)and told him that he'd been doing it wrong for years.

I hastily covered my snort of laughter when I caught Madam Hooch's sharp look, looking around, like, 'who did that?'

Harry and Ron grinned at me.

Malfoy scowled, a hint of pink dusting his face.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly.

"On my whistle-three-two-"

I leant forwards, preparing to kick off-when Neville, jumpy as he was, leapt into the air and took off even before Hooch had risen her whistle to her lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, apparently not noticing that he probably couldn't.

The rest of the class and I watched, wide-eyed, as Neville shot up like a bottle rocket with no sign of stopping.

He looked terrified.

Then, doing literally the only thing you don't do in this situation, he looked down.

Suddenly tipping sideways, he hurtled straight at the-

I reflexively slammed my eyes shut but, even then, I could hear the nasty crack as Neville collided with the ground.

When I convinced myself to open my eyes, I winced heavily at seeing Hooch leaning over a pale-faced Neville who was laying in the grass in pain.

"Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy-it's alright, up you get."

I felt a pang of sympathy.

"None of you," she turned a stern look on the rest of us, "is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."

Her attention returned to Neville, who was tear-streaked and holding his broken wrist against his chest.

"Come on, dear."

Madam Hooch led the blonde away.

"First spontaneous boils, now this-damn," I muttered, grimacing, "Neville is not having a good first few weeks."

"No kidding," Daphne said dryly, glancing at me sideways.

"I half expect a gryphon to carry him off next week," I replied almost seriously.

"Or for him to fall in the lake," Daphne snorted more realistically.

"Or off a cliff-" Pansy sniggered.

"Or off a cliff and into the lake-" Tracey joined in.

"Would it be wrong of me to take bets?" I joked.

"Probably," Daphne shrugged indifferently.

"A Galleon says he doesn't make it to the end of the month," Pansy said at the same time, smirking.

"We're-we're bad people," I decided, unable to hide my amusement.

The second Madam Hooch and Neville were out of sight, Malfoy burst out laughing.

My slight grin dropped.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Several of my housemates joined in.

I was annoyed, kinda unfairly considering I wasn't much better before Malfoy had to step in and be an ass about it, to see Pansy was one of them.

"You are such a prick!" I spat at Malfoy.

"Oh, you can talk," he said, mocking my earlier retort. "At least I'm not an annoying little twit with dead parents who doesn't know when to shut up."

Ron and Harry reared up furiously.

To my surprise, it was one of the Patil twins, Parvati I think, who snapped back first.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy remarked. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

The fact she just glossed over what Malfoy said to me kinda stung.

Daphne and Tracey shared an awkward look.

"Look!" Malfoy suddenly said as he grabbed something from off the ground. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

Seeing that smoke-filled glass ball from breakfast glittering in the sun as he held it up, my hackles rose and I scowled.

"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry and I ordered at the same time, Harry's voice quiet while mine was louder and harsher.

Startled, we looked at each other.

Everyone else shut up, turning to watch.

"I thought we weren't going to be those twins," I groaned.

Harry shot me a look asking if this was really the time.

I threw up my hands in surrender.

Malfoy smiled at us nastily.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find-how about-up a tree?"

"Give it here!" Harry shouted.

"Don't you dare!" I snarled.

Before we could stop him, he was on his broom and shooting off into the sky.

Unexpectedly, he actually was a good flier-not that I'd ever tell him that.

Malfoy levelled out beside the topmost branches of an oak tree, high up in the air, and hovered in place.

"Come and get it, Potters!"

In a flash, we'd both grabbed our shitty school brooms. Shrugging off my robes, I dumped them on the ground and rolled up my sleeves.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "Madam Hooch told us not to move-you'll get us all into trouble."

Ignoring her, we climbed onto our broomsticks.

Hermione looked at me pleadingly as I plucked a bright pink rubber band off my wrist, swiftly tying back my hair.

"Jewel-you don't even know how to-"

We kicked off.

"-fly."

As my ponytail whipped about, my heart beating loudly in my ears, I felt a swooping sensation in my stomach that made way for a fierce rush of exhilaration that hit me out of nowhere and made me laugh breathlessly. Suddenly, I knew exactly what to do, like it was written into the very fabric of my DNA-and, judging by how easily Harry pulled his broomstick up to fly higher, I wasn't the only one.

I followed Harry's lead, pulling up on my broom's handle even as people screamed and gasped below us.

Ron whooped admiringly.

In sync, we turned our broomsticks to face Malfoy, who looked stunned.

"Give it here or we'll knock you off that broom!" Harry threatened.

"Can't we knock him off anyway?" I half-joked.

Harry didn't argue with my suggestion.

"Oh, yeah?" Malfoy attempted to sneer to cover how worried he looked.

Harry leant forwards suddenly and, grasping his broomstick with both hands, shot at the blonde.

Realising what he was doing at the last second, I veered to the left and came up behind Malfoy just as he flew out of Harry's way, blocking him.

Harry turned sharply to face the Slytherin who seemed to realise we had him cornered.

"Going somewhere, Blondie?" I quipped with a nasty smirk of my own.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called over.

Malfoy darted his gaze between us.

"Catch it if you can, then!" he abruptly shouted as he pulled his arm back, hurling the glass trinket into the air and sending it streaking towards the ground.

Without conscious thought, I instantly shot downwards.

Harry did too.

"Jules, I've got it-pull up!" he shouted.

Shooting him a one-handed thumbs-up, I instinctively twisted my body in a manoeuvre I doubted I could pull off again, flipped mid-air, and steadied myself upright.

"Bloody hell!" I heard Ron exclaim below.

I hovered in place, looking down anxiously as Harry dove for the glass ball.

Several students screamed.

Reaching out, he deftly snatched it a foot from the ground before toppling safely onto the grass, unscathed.

"Wait-did you just call me Jules?" I hollered down at Harry, startled.

Harry looked up at me in disbelief.

"You know, because I kinda like it, Scotch tape!" I added.

Before Harry could respond, a familiar voice suddenly-coming from absolutely nowhere, I swear to god-shouted, "HARRY AND JEWEL POTTER!"

I flinched and looked up in alarm to see McGonagall sprinting at us.

Hastily fixing my grip on the handle of my broomstick, I gracefully(an adverb I've never been able to apply to myself-I'm literally about as graceful as a potato)flew down to the ground. Getting off just next to Harry, I dropped the broom on the grass and wordlessly held out a hand to help him up. Remembering what Madam Hooch said, he didn't let go and, squeezing his hand back tightly, neither did I.

"Never-in all my time at Hogwarts-" she sputtered, almost speechless(a sight I'd love in any other situation), "-how dare you-might have broken your necks-"

"It wasn't their fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss Patil."

"Professor McGonagall, please-"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger. Potter-both Potters-follow me, now."

We looked at each other, hearts sinking.

I glanced back to see Hermione(who was holding my discarded robes)and Tracey looking horrified. Daphne was visibly exasperated, muttering to herself with her face in her hands(likely about how mental I am and how I'd finally gone and gotten myself expelled), and Pansy didn't seem to know what to do.

Seeing Malfoy and his bodyguards staring at us in triumph, and downright refusing to let the blonde think he'd won(I mean, we're probably on our way to the Hogwarts Express right now-if we're lucky, with a temporary suspension), I tilted my chin, straightened my shoulders, and flipped him off.

"I'll save you a seat at dinner, stuck-up!" I called back cockily and, to top it off, blew him a big sarcastic kiss.

Malfoy looked taken aback, his mouth falling open.

Several students from both houses sputtered laughs.

"Potter!"

"Professor," I quipped innocently.

Unamused, McGonagall looked at me and Harry sternly and, getting the hint, we speedily followed her.

As our class fell behind us, Harry looked more and more defeated, the glass ball still clutched in his other hand.

I hardened my expression so he wouldn't see I felt the same way.

The last thing either of us wanted was to leave Hogwarts.

To have our wands snapped and be told we could never do magic again.

"It's going to be okay, Harry," I whispered bracingly.

His glance said it really wasn't.

"Look, we flew like badasses, you caught Neville's glass doohickey-thingy-"

"Remembrall."

"-er, yeah, that-" I nodded as if I knew perfectly well whatever the hell a Remembrall was, "and we stuck it to Malfoy-and, whatever happens..." I hesitated, licking my lips, "whatever happens-you'll still have me."

Harry's head snapped sideways before dropping.

Despite how upset he was, I could see a small smile on his face.

"Thanks-Jules," he said quietly.

I squeezed his hand again.

"Anytime, Scotch tape," I replied playfully but with an underlining sincerity that seemed to warm Harry from the inside out.

We smiled at each other.

Wait, are we really having a bonding moment right before we're chucked out of school?

-Sure, that may as well happen.

It wasn't until I looked back that I noticed McGonagall watching our interaction.

She turned back around without a word.

The rest of the walk up the front steps, across the Entrance Hall, and up the sweeping marble staircase was in dead silence.

McGonagall yanked open doors and marched single-mindedly down corridors while we trotted silently behind her, Harry fiddling with the 'Remembrall' miserably while I gripped his hand but, otherwise, oozed a false sense of bravado that I didn't really feel. Finally, she stopped-not outside of Dumbledore's office, or even one of our common rooms so we could pack our trunks, but-the Charms classroom?

Opening the door, she poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Harry and I looked at each other quickly.

Harry, in his bewilderment, seemed to assume 'Wood' was a cane she was going to hit us with. I momentarily pictured the stern-faced deputy headmistress chasing us down the hall with a hugestickbefore realizing Wood was probably a student, not an object Hogwarts used to beat troublesome kids.

-then I pictured McGonagall picking up a student named Wood and aggressively swinging them at us like a golf club.

Or maybe it's a Pinocchio situation?

'Aaahh-!'

'No, Professor McGonagall-Pinocchio's a real boy now!'

Wood was a well-built, burly fifth year Gryffindor.

When he saw me and Harry, he looked as confused as we felt.

"Follow me, you three," McGonagall said.

She started walking, giving us no other option than to follow.

Up the corridor, she pointed at an empty classroom.

"In here."

Okay, empty-except for Peeves, who was writing rude words on the blackboard.

Peeves is a little man dressed in outlandish clothes topped with a bell-covered hat and an orange bow tie.

His hair is black and his eyes wickedly slanted and orange in colour.

Unlike other ghosts, as a poltergeist, Peeves looks solid-and can turn invisible at will.

"Out, Peeves!" McGonagall barked.

Surprisingly, he chucked the chalk he'd been writing with into a nearby bin instead of making a fuss and flew out of the room-

All the while letting out an impressive repertoire of swear words.

"Potters, this is Oliver Wood. Wood-I've found you a Seeker."

Wood looked delighted.

Harry and I swiftly turned to stare at each other in astonishment.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," she said crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. His sisters just the same." She glanced from Harry to me. "Was that your first times on a broomstick?"

We nodded dumbly.

"He caught that thing-" she looked at the glass ball, "in his hand after a fifty-foot dive. Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" Wood asked Harry eagerly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," McGonagall told us.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," Wood continued, walking around us as he eyed up Harry. "Light-speedy-we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor-a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say-"

Wood had been so focused on Harry that, when he finally seemed to notice me, he stopped dead. Eyebrows dropping, the fifth year went from looking like a small child on Christmas morning(-who grew up in a happy, functional household)to frowning with a perplexed and questioning look on his face.

"Wait-what do you mean, 'his sisters just the same?'"

McGonagall glanced at me.

"She dove at the same time, and just as impressively, as her brother-and, when he told her to pull up, she instantly twisted her body, flipped, and smoothly hovered in the air in one lithe movement. With how gracefully she moves in the air, you would think she'd been flying for years, not five minutes."

"But then why-" Wood's eyes widened in horror and dismay. "Oh, no, no, no," he moaned, "please don't tell me you're telling Flint about her."

The professor's lips pursed.

"It would hardly be fair of me to deprive Miss Potter of the same opportunity her brother is being offered," she said firmly.

"But-"

She looked at him sternly, and his complaints died on his lips.

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first year rule. Heaven knows we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks..."

McGonagall sent me and Harry a stern look of our own.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter-and you too, Miss Potter," she added to me, "should Flint give you a spot on the Slytherin team, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

All of a sudden, she was giving us one of her rare smiles.

"Your father would have been proud," she told us and, my head shooting up, I found myself slightly speechless. "He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

McGonagall decided to leave Harry at Wood's mercy while she took me to see Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch Captain-who, I remembered with a start, I'd met at the Sorting Ceremony.

The entire walk there, nervous butterflies were biting each other's heads off in my stomach.

Finally, we stopped outside the History classroom.

"Pardon me, Mr Binns?"

There was a startled silence and many a sigh of relief.

"Could I borrow Flint, please?"

Several people groaned jealously.

Making his way out, Flint's smug smirk fell to confusion when he saw me standing awkwardly beside the Transfigurations Professor.

"This way," McGonagall said.

Once again, she just led us into the nearest empty classroom.

"Potter, this is Marcus Flint-"

"We've met," Flint stated.

McGonagall decided to ignore his attitude.

"I happen to know the Slytherin team has lost several players with the new school year, Flint, and I believe I've found you an exceedingly talented flier in Miss Potter here."

Flint stared at her blankly.

"Excuse me, what?"

She pursed her lips.

"Jewel Potter is a natural flier," she said and I felt a swell of pride at hearing her compliment me-something I know doesn't happen often(Minerva McGonagall never hands out an empty compliment; if she says she thinks you're talented, she thinks you're talented). "Before today, she had never so much as touched a flying broomstick-and yet, just moments ago, I witnessed her do a fifty-foot dive and pull up by lithely twisting her body and flipping over herself mid-air. I doubt there is a single member of your team, as it stands, that could have pulled off such a manoeuvre."

Flint looked at her like he thought she'd gone mad.

"Aren't you meant to be Gryffindors Head of House?" he remarked in disbelief.

Once again, her lips thinned.

"Be that as it may, as much as I want my house to win the Quidditch Cup this year, I could not deprive Miss Potter of an opportunity like this because I want to win."

I felt a flash of admiration.

Flint didn't look as moved by her statement.

"Look, I've already filled all the positions-" he said slowly as he glanced at me but, in that split-second, I knew it had nothing to do with him 'filling all the positions'.

Because he looked at me, and he thought, 'and she's a girl'.

Me being a little first year, and having the rival team's Head of House championing me, definitely didn't help.

"Just because I'm a girl, doesn't mean I can't fly circles around you," I spat unthinkingly.

Flint and McGonagall looked startled.

"Look, I didn't say-" Flint said.

"I saw that stupid look," I interrupted, staring him down with flashing green eyes, "that 'no way am I gonna put a first year girl on the Slytherin Quidditch team' look."

"So what if there was a look?" he challenged. "I'm the team captain-what I say goes, and I say better luck next year."

Losing my temper I took a step forwards and, to Flint's taken aback, poked him hard on the chest.

McGonagall didn't even try to stop me.

In fact, she looked shocked and indignant by his statement.

"Being a girl has nothing to do with how good a flier I am," I stated fiercely. "If Minerva bloody McGonagall says I can fly, I can damn fly. And don't you dare say that she brought us here to sabotage the Slytherin team. What are you, stupid? Pfft, as if you need to answer that. She's doing a bloody nice thing for me-probably one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me in my life, at the expense of her own house team, because she's a bloomin' good person and you will damn-well respect her-if not for that, then because she's your motherfreakin' deputy headmistress."

McGonagall looked even more speechless than Flint.

"Do you really think assaulting me," he sneered, recovering, "and insulting my intelligence is gonna change my mind?"

"You call that 'assaulting you?'" I scoffed, "I'll show you-"

I rolled my sleeves back up blindly, face burning with anger and eyes spitting green flames.

"Potter! Flint! Enough!"

Reluctantly, I dropped my fist from where I'd risen it to deck Flint-who had flinched back, to my satisfaction-on his sorry ass.

-wuss.

"Now," McGonagall said shortly, her lips set in a thin line as she looked at the black-haired teenager, "I understand that you've filled all of the positions on your team, Flint-" the flashing look in her eyes doubted that, "but, should you change your mind, I will be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about waving the first year rule to allow Miss Potter to play. She is an exceptional flier and, for the sake of your team, I urge you to at least allow her to try out. I can promise you, you will not be disappointed."

Flint's expression stated that, as far as he was concerned, that wasn't happening.

Shit, him letting me try out next year is up in the air.

"Back to class, now."

Flint left.

"I apologise for Flint's behaviour," McGonagall surprised me by saying, looking at me with a hint of sympathy. "Though, while your feelings are certainly understandable," she added wryly, "that did not give you the right to try to hit him."

-and yet, still haven't been reprimanded for it, I noticed.

"This isn't the first time I've been underestimated," I told her matter of factly, "or discriminated against because I'm a girl. I play for a co-ed soccer team back in Ipswich-that wasn't always co-ed. When I first tried out, some of the guys treated me and the other girls on the team the same way. Then I decked a guy, and they shut up." I glanced back at where Flint had left, "whatever Flint says, this isn't over. I am going to try out for the team and, in the first match of this season, I'll be playing."

McGonagall seemed to find my determination admirable.

On the walk back to where Harry and Wood were waiting, I just frowned pensively at my ballet flats while McGonagall glanced at me worriedly from the corner of her eye.

"Professor," I said impulsively just before she opened the door.

McGonagall turned to me in surprise, but I just kept staring at my feet.

"For what it's worth, it was cool of you to even try. I'm not used to that. I wasn't lying before. That was probably one of the nicest things anybody has ever done for me, so-thanks."

I rubbed my neck awkwardly.

McGonagall's face softened into a smile.

"You're very welcome, Miss Potter."

꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ

I sat next to Harry and Ron at dinner, still fuming and knowing if I'd sat anywhere near Flint I would've vaulted over the table and strangled his sexist ass.

As Harry recounted everything, Ron stared at him in dumb shock with a piece of pie hanging forgotten halfway to his mouth.

"Seeker? But first years never-you must be the youngest house player-"

"In about a century," Harry finished as he ate his own pie. "Wood told me."

Ron gaped stupidly.

"I start training next week," Harry added when he just sat there. "Only, don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret."

Wood even swore me to secrecy earlier, not that I would've told anyone regardless-screw Flint.

I was just considering shoving Ron's pie into his face-because it's just too good an opportunity to pass up and I could definitely do with a laugh-when Fred and George walked into the Great Hall.

Spotting Harry, they hurried over.

"Well done, Wood told us," George said keeping his voice down, wary of being overheard. "We're on the team too-Beaters."

"He told us about Flint, too," Fred added to me. "We've decided to knock him off his broom for you."

The scowl I'd worn for the past few hours softened.

"Thanks, Freddie," I replied with a genuine smile. "But I probably shouldn't sic you guys on my new team captain."

The twins, Ron, and Harry looked taken aback.

"But didn't Flint refuse to even let you try out because you're a first year-and a-" Ron looked at Harry, the word girl hanging awkwardly in the air.

"Oh, I'm trying out," I assured them. "And I'm going to make the Slytherin team and play whenever the first match is set-whether Flint likes it or not."

"He's the captain-he kind of has to like it to let you on the team-" Ron pointed out slowly.

"He really doesn't," I said flatly.

Fred turned to George.

"I don't know if she's determined, and we should encourage this," he commented, "or just delusional-"

"I'm a spunky redhead set on world domination," I deadpanned.

"Damn right you are!" the twins agreed enthusiastically, looking amused.

"-This will probably end badly," Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry wisely didn't agree or disagree with that statement.

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," Fred went on. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

"But he almost cried out of relief when he said Flint wouldn't let Jewel play-" George added.

"Makes us wonder how good she is," Fred pondered.

"Anyway," George said, "we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

I perked up.

"Bet it's the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week-"

"I know that one-I found it ages ago!" I blurted.

The twins looked startled.

"Do you know the one that leads to the Charms corridor?" I added eagerly.

"We know every secret passage in and out of the school," George boldly claimed with a mischievous wink.

"Teach me your ways," I breathed dramatically.

Fred and George grinned broadly.

"Maybe later."

"Definitely later."

"For now, we should go find Lee. See you."

They left-and, to our collective displeasure, were almost instantly replaced by Malfoy Crabbe and Goyle.

"So much for saving me a seat," Malfoy said mockingly.

"I realised it would mean being stuck next to you, and, well, you know-" I insultingly gestured at him up and down, as if that said everything.

Ron sniggered.

Malfoy scowled, a hint of pink on his face.

"Having your last meals, are you?" he remarked maliciously, his gaze moving to include Harry. "When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground," Harry coldly retorted, "and you've got your little friends with you."

"'Little?'" I snorted.

Crabbe and Goyle scowled at me.

"I'd take either of you on any time on my own," Malfoy shot back in retaliation as he glared at Harry. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only-no contact. What's the matter?" he added snidely seeing the look Harry and I traded, "Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course they have," Ron interrupted as he wheeled on Malfoy. "I'm their second, who's yours?"

Malfoy sized up his bodyguards.

"Crabbe. Midnight alright? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

Malfoy walked off, Crabbe and Goyle following on his heels like the obedient little lapdogs they were.

Harry looked at Ron and vice versa.

I just frowned after the blonde, picking up a sudden flare of smug satisfaction and deception that made me uneasy. He's up to something-I don't know whyI was so sure of that, but I was.

A purple rubber band snapped.

"What is a wizard's duel?" Harry was questioning, confused. "And what do you mean, you're our second?"

Ron picked at his cold pie.

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die."

My head whipped around in alarm.

Harry and I stared at him.

"But people only die in proper duels," Ron was quick to add when he saw the looks on our faces, "you know, with real wizards. The most you Jewel and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. None of you knows enough magic to do any real damage-" speak for yourself. "I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

Somehow, I thought apprehensively, I don't think he did.

"Which one of you are gonna take him on, anyway?"

"I'll do it," Harry said, looking at me pointedly when I made to argue. "If you do, you really will kill him."

I shrugged, smirking slightly.

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?" Harry added.

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose."

"Oh!" I instantly threw my hand up, "I call doing that."

"Excuse me."

We turned around.

"Oh, hey 'Mione-" I held up a hand, smiling.

Hermione looked startled but thrilled by the nickname...which is kind of sad, seeing as all I did was call her "'Mione".

Her brown eyes lit up and her face glowed pink.

Maybe I should go find some cool Ravenclaws to hook her up with-apparently, the majority of Gryffindors in our year are dicks.

"O-oh! Um-hi, Jewel-"

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" Ron wondered.

-Ron included.

Ignoring him, Hermione's smile faded as she looked between me and Harry.

"I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying-"

"Bet you could," Ron muttered.

"-and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor-and Slytherin," she added for me, "if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," Harry shot back.

-Harry too.

"Good-bye," Ron finished.

"Guys-"

I shot them a look.

Trying to not take their statements to heart, Hermione just turned up her nose but, before leaving, held out my school robes.

"I wanted to give them to you earlier, but I couldn't find you."

"Cheers," I said as I accepted them. "Sorry Ron and Harry are prats."

The prats in question looked slightly offended.

Hermione just smiled wryly before turning serious.

"Jewel, please," she pleaded, "don't go tonight."

"Someone has to watch these two's sixes," I reasoned. "And if anybody gets to deck Malfoy, it'll be me."

"You'll get into so much trouble-" she said anxiously.

"Better I get in trouble than not show up and have Malfoy lord it over me for the next seven years. We share every single class. And a common room. I can't escape him like you lot. Besides," I added, "if you hadn't already noticed, I have a bit of a knack for trouble. Either it finds me, I go looking for it-because I absolutely despise being bored, or my big mouth lands me in it. At least this time, I'll get in trouble for backing up these idiots-and, hopefully, giving a certain stuck-up blonde jerk a black eye or a busted lip. Ooh, I can tell everybody I beat him up. He'll never live it down."

I had a starry-eyed look on my face.

-which Harry and Ron seemed to find greatly entertaining.

"You're not going to change your mind, are you?" Hermione sighed.

"I don't often," I said dryly.

She nodded in resignation.

As I watched her walk away, a surprising sensation of guilt twisted up my insides.

"You're still good for tonight, right?" Ron asked me slowly.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I said quickly, dragging my eyes away. "I'll meet you guys in the trophy room with Malfoy Crabbe and Goyle."

Harry and Ron shared a look.

I didn't see Malfoy after dinner so, grabbing my copy of Hairy Snout Human Heart(a heartwrenching account of a wizard's struggle with lycanthropy that I was completely absorbed in), I settled back on one of the button sofas in the common room to read. It wasn't until just before curfew that I shifted, pulling my legs out from beneath me and stretching out, and spotted the way too upbeat-looking blonde Slytherin walking into the common room with his sniggering bodyguards.

The second I looked at him, I suddenly knew.

Dropping my book on the table in front of me, I shot up and stormed over.

"What did you do?" I snarled.

Malfoy rose an eyebrow, a smug glint in his grey eyes.

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific, Potter."

"You rat!" I exclaimed in realisation. "You set up the duel with us then went to Filch behind our backs to get us caught after hours!"

Malfoy's face fell in shock.

"How on earth did you know that? Did you follow us?" he demanded accusingly.

"I-I-" I stopped short, a wave of confusion and uneasiness suddenly washing over me. "No-I was sitting over there reading the entire time..."

I looked back at the sofa I'd been sitting on, unnerved.

"How did I know?" I whispered to myself.

Malfoy could've gone to any professor and made up a story...how did I know he went to Filch specifically?

How did I know he'd just come from tipping him off to get us in trouble?

-And why did I suddenly just know all of by looking at him?

Without realising, I started to repeatedly snap a green rubber band on my wrist.

Malfoy frowned at me.

His eyes lingered on my hands.

"Potter?"

"I just-I just looked at you-and then I knew-"

I ran my fingers roughly through my hair.

"Potter," Malfoy snapped impatiently, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"-I have to warn Harry," I blurted out abruptly, forcing myself to push down the fear creeping up my chest and around my throat.

It's one of my all-time favourite unhealthy defence mechanisms(next to inappropriate humour and grabbing a tub of ice cream and a big spoon and eating my feelings-a particularly delicious way to deal with ones miserable existence). If I push it down and focus on something else, it'll go away.

Eventually.

-right?

"Wait, what? Potter-?"

Hurrying back to the sofa I was on, I snatched up Hairy Snout Human Heart before sprinting out of the common room and right past Malfoy who looked understandably stunned by the odd, confusing turn of events.

"Potter!"

Realising I had no clue where the Gryffindor common room is-aside from it being in a tower, which I'm pretty sure I overheard Ron or Harry mention or something-I stopped in the middle of the Entrance Hall and cursed silently. There were still two hours until the 'wizard's duel'. I knew Harry and Ron weren't going to back out, they were absolutely resolute, and if I went to a professor we'd just get in trouble anyway for taking Malfoy's bait and sneaking out after hours to basically fight. I'd sabotage Filch's office, but I don't know where it is-or have the materials to do that, and if I try to lead him away and create a ruckus to distract him from the trophy room he'd just catch me then drag me off after Harry and Ron.

And, if I'm caught, there'll be no one to warn them.

Not seeing any other option, I turned around and headed up the marble staircase.

Cautious of the ghosts, cackling poltergeists, professors, and patroling prefects wandering the castle(never mind the paintings that everybody seems to forget about, the subjects of whom could very well report back to any of the above-which led to some awkward acrobatics on my part), I kept to the shadows and stepped carefully, my eyes and ears peeled for even the smallest of noises or movements. Reaching the Charms corridor without incident, I slipped through the secret passageway and into the armoury-a corridor exhibiting rows of polished silver suits of armour. Walking down the corridor noiselessly, I peeked around the corner to see the trophy room.

As you would expect, it was filled with crystal glass display cases containing awards, trophies, cups, plates, shields, and statues awarded for various achievements. Hogwarts Awards for Services to the School were prominently displayed, and there was even a list of current and past Head Boys and Head Girls.

Checking my watch, I grimaced at the time.

Maybe I should've hung out in the common room until it was time-but, in my defence, Malfoy riled me up and I wasn't exactly thinking very clearly.

Glad I'd at least had the foresight to snatch up my book, I leant against the wall to read, wary of getting too absorbed in it and checking around the corner every now and again. Finally, after about two hours(including the time it took me to calm down, think things through, and get here), I felta familiar tingling sensation in my scar and heard Ron's voice whisper, "He's late, maybe he's chickened out."

"No, Jewel's nearby-"

"How do you know?"

"My scar was tingling a second ago-it always does that when we've been apart for a bit-it's already stopped, so she must be here-"

"Your scars doing what?"

Closing my book abruptly, I peered around the corner to see four shadows edging around the walls. Harry had his wand out and, to my taken aback, Hermione and Neville were with him and Ron(who was staring at my twin incredulously).

I psssted, holding a finger warningly to my mouth when they all whipped around.

Ron's jaw dropped.

Once I had their attention, I wove them over frantically.

'It's a TRAP, we need to GO' I mouthed several times.

All I got in return were blank stares.

"What?" Harry said.

Giving up, I took a step towards them only to hear a sudden noise and leap back.

The others jumped and Harry's wand shot up.

"Sniff around, my sweet," Filch's voice cooed, likely to his cat, "they might be lurking in a corner."

Harry's head snapped to me.

Seeing his horrified face-and that he wasn't moving, I looked at him in disbelief and gestured pointedly for him to get his ass over here. And, if he feels like it, bring the others too-I'm not fussed, but I kinda like those lot.

Harry wove madly at Hermione Ron and Neville(presumably to follow him and not goodbye)before quietly hurrying over to me.

"It's a trap, we need to go," I whispered, motioning my hands exaggeratingly/sarcastically to make it clear that that's what I'd been mouthing at them.

"Yeah, we got that," Harry muttered.

Neville was barely around the corner when Filch walked into the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," he was muttering, "probably hiding."

'Secret passageway,' I mouthed, gesturing behind me.

Hermione's face lit up.

Harry and Ron looked at each other in realisation.

"The Charms corridor," they breathed almost soundlessly.

I nodded and tapped my nose with my index finger.

"Follow me," I said quietly.

The thrill of the chase thick in the air(the others looked more petrified than slightly giddy like I was), Harry Ron Hermione and Neville followed me down the armoury corridor as Filch closed in on us.

We were almost home free when Neville cracked, quite spectacularly.

Letting out a loud squeak, he just took off-and, as he did, he tripped over himself, grabbed Ron around the middle in a botched attempt to stop his fall, and sent the both of them toppling into a suit of armour.

There was a great CLANG! and a CRASH! as the armour went down with them.

Note to self: never do anything illegal with Neville Longbottom.

"RUN!" Harry shouted.

Not having to be told twice, I took off in a dead sprint for the secret passageway with Harry and the others close behind on my heels.

The second I reached the tapestry hiding our escape route, I tore through it.

Harry Ron Hermione and Neville didn't hesitate to follow.

We didn't stop running until we'd stumbled out the other side like a destruction of stampeding wild cats(or a cauldron of bats disturbed by a torchlight), panting heavily, hearts pounding, and completely out of breath.

I dropped my hands onto my knees, blood rushing to my head.

"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the wall beside the tapestry.

"I-told-you," Hermione gasped as she clutched at her chest, "I-told-you."

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower, quickly as possible," Ron told Harry.

"Malfoy tricked you, you realize that, don't you?" Hermione cut in. "He was never going to meet you-Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

She looked at me for confirmation.

Running my fingers through my hair, I nodded shakily and looked up at Harry.

"Sorry-tried to warn-been there-two hours," I held up two fingers, making a peace sign, "-Malfoy-bloody git-wanted to get us caught shirking cur-curfew-" I caught my breath, "shit, I shouldn't be this out of breath-"

"Thanks for getting us out of there, Jules," Harry said gratefully.

I smiled at him breathlessly.

"Anytime, Scotch tape."

Then, Harry said the worst two words in creation.

Or, that's how it felt right now, as out of breath and exhausted as I am.

"Let's go."

I groaned but, when they started moving, straightened to follow. We were barely halfway down the corridor when a nearby doorknob suddenly rattled.

A door flew open and, because why not? at this point, Peeves shot out.

Spotting us, he gave a squeal of delight.

"Sure, this may as well happen," I sighed in resigned acceptance.

"Shut up, Peeves-please-you'll get us thrown out," Harry pleaded.

Peeves just started laughing.

"And we aren't legging it right now why?" I wondered seriously.

"Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty," Peeves sang maliciously, "you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

Yeah, because 'asking nicely' is the way to get through to Peeves.

"I don't suppose telling you we aren't the droids you're looking for is gonna do much?" I quipped wryly, waving my hand mockingly to mimic Obi-Wan Kenobi.

That earnt me three sharp not helping looks and a bewildered face from Neville.

"Oh, like you lot can talk," I scoffed, well aware that I sounded nerdy as hell, "I bet you wouldn't know an E-11 blaster rifle from a type-2 phaser."

"Considering I have no idea what either of those things is," Ron said slowly, "you'd be right."

"-for the sake of our continued friendship, I'll just go ahead and pretend you didn't just say that."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Should tell Filch, I should, it's for your own good, you know," Peeves said innocently, orange eyes glittering.

-Screw it.

"Oh, well, if you want to help Filch..." I remarked with feigned nonchalance as I checked my nails, seeing as the others were failing miserably. "I mean, I didn't realise you were so into rule-following-running to Filch when students do the wrong thing...sounds a bit like something a prefect or something would do, doesn't it? Maybe if you help him, it'll prove to him-and everyone-that you're really just rule-abiding and misunderstood-you just get a bad rep, but this'll fix that for sure-"

Peeves' face dropped.

Harry and Hermione looked impressed.

When Peeves didn't do anything right away, staring at me with slightly narrowed eyes(obviously aware he was being manipulated by the look on his face that basically translated to, 'well played'), Ron lost his patience and ruined any reverse-psychology I'd attempted to use on the poltergeist.

"Get out of the way," he snapped sounding fed up, swiping at him and sealing our fates.

-Aaand we're sunk.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Finally, something we should've done sentences ago, we all ducked under the poltergeist and made a mad dash for it.

And, just when I thought we were completely screwed, we ran headlong into a locked door at the end of the corridor and I had a ️lightbulb moment. Brightening, I hastily dug through my pockets while the others all pushed desperately at the door as if their combined strength would make it any less locked.

"This is it!" Ron moaned. "We're done for! This is the end!"

Pulling out a small clear bag filled with hairpins, I kissed it in relief before pulling out two and shoving the bag back into my pocket for future use.

"Are you kidding me? This is fantastic!" I chirped with a devilish tongue-in-teeth grin causing them all to stop short and turn to me in disbelief.

"What are you on about?" Ron exclaimed incredulously. "Filch'll be here any second and we're tra-"

Rolling my eyes hugely, I shoved him to the side, crouched down in front of the door, and used my teeth to manipulate the hairpins(which I tend to randomly carry just in case I need to pick a lock, a weird habitfor someone who doesn't even use hairpins-at least, not in the traditional sense; they're quite useful when you're locked out of places...and when you're always losing house keys).

Pulling apart the first hairpin so I was left with a long flat piece of metal, I bent it back, turning it into a wire. Sticking the metal wire into the lock, I used it as leverage to bend the pin into a pick and pushed it in roughly one centimetre with the flat side facing up. The rest was pushed two or three inches to the left with the end bending slightly and curling up a few millimetres. Taking one end of my pick, I bent half of it back on itself to create a little loop(to make it easier to hold and to put pressure on).

The second pin was swiftly bent at a right angle and turned into a 'lever' with some force and practised ease.

After that, it was all a matter of manually pushing each of the small metal cylinders/'pins' that sink into the barrel within the lock into the right position and slowly turning the barrel so they wouldn't fall back into place.

There was a satisfying click.

I turned the knob and, as the door easily cracked open, looked up at the dumbstruck Gryffindors smugly.

"Now, what was that about us being trapped?" I asked Ron mockingly, "I wasn't listening."

Ron looked too relieved-and impressed to retaliate.

No time to waste, we all quickly piled inside.

"Oh, crap-we could've used Alohomora-" I realised as we awkwardly squashed together, ears pressed against the surface of the newly unlocked locked door so we could listen for Filch, "I didn't even think of that-"

(in my defence, I'm still getting used to the whole I'm-a-witch-and-can-do-magic thing, which is why I defaulted to doing things 'the Muggle way').

"Alo-what?"

Harry shot me a confused look.

"Unlocking charm-"

"Shh! Not now!" Hermione hissed at us.

Outside, Filch had finally made it to the troublesome poltergeist.

"Which way did they go, Peeves? Quick, tell me."

"Say 'please'."

"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please."

"Alright-please."

"NOTHING! Ha Haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha Ha! Haaaa!"

As Peeves whooshed away, Filch was left cursing him out in the corridor.

I know I wasn't the only one who breathed out in relief.

"He thinks this door is locked," Harry reasoned in a whisper, which was pretty much my last-ditch plan when I got the idea to pick the lock(hide in a locked room-and, as long as Peeves didn't rat on us, Filch would look everywhere but here for us). "I think we'll be okay-get off, Neville! What?"

Looking over, I spotted Neville, who had been tugging at Harry's sleeve, staring at something behind us looking pale and beyond words.

My insides going cold, I slowly followed his sight-line.

I stopped dead with terrifying clarity.

-guess we know why the third-floor corridor is forbidden now.

A monstrous dog the size of the entire room loomed over us, its three gigantic heads reaching the ceiling, noses twitching wildly, six mad eyes rolling and becoming as fixated on us as we were on it, and saliva dripping down its yellowish fangs; the hound of Hades guarding the gates of the Underworld.

At first, it was completely still, and so were we.

But then, quickly getting over the shock of our sudden, unexpected appearance, it began to growl thunderously.

"Hey, Harry, you know how Goonies never say die?" I found myself saying faintly.

"Is this really the time for a movie reference?" Harry managed to hiss incredulously even as he stared up in horror at the growling three-headed dog a stone's throw away from us, unable to bring himself to look away.

"Sorry Venkman, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought," I immediately quoted in response, because it's always the time for a movie reference(and this one just so happened to fit my current state of mind splendidly). "No, but seriously...I'm callin' it. Die. Die, die, die, die, die."

Instead of responding to my slightly hysterical statement, my saner half snatched the back of my robes and yanked causing me to trip backwards out of the room.

Not giving me the chance to react, Harry let go of my robes and grabbed onto my arm in a way that felt vaguely protective-and, nobody really eager to wait around to get caught or eaten, the five of us sprinted away like bats out of hell.