centerChapter 6 – The First Disappearance/center
By that night, Liz's grin had vanished from her face. The jealousy was coming back, and she felt cheated out of a talent she should have inherited from her father. Michael's dad had even said that he was horrible at Quidditch in his youth. So why did Michael have all the talent?
So great was the thirst to prove herself that Liz snuck out of the Gryffindor tower at midnight, one of the school brooms tucked under her arm. She would show everyone that she could fly just as well as, if not better than, Michael.
Once out of the castle and on the grounds, Liz looked up at the moon as it shone on Hagrid's cabin. Then she put the broom on the ground, stuck her arm out, and said, "UP!" The broom remained motionless.
"Aw, who does that anyway," she muttered, picking it up and mounting correctly.
She kicked off the ground easily, and that gave her false hope. The broom changed speed suddenly. It was going too fast for her to control it. It was like the broom had a mind of its own, and she was just along for the ride. It twirled and spun and jerked around so fast that Liz's head spun. "HELP!" she yelled, knowing no one would hear.
But someone did. Chris came running out with a broom in his hand. "What are you doing?" he yelled up at her.
"I don't know—AAAAAAAAAA!" she screamed as the broom rocketed upward at an astounding speed. It got to an amazing altitude where there was little oxygen for Liz to breathe. Her broom handle seemed to multiply into four, spinning around each other, making her dizzy and giddy at the same time. The cold was so nice, a sleepy sort of nice, the kind that made you want to lie down...The broom stopped horizontally, and she did lay down...someone was yelling, but she didn't know who...suddenly she was filled with a longing to touch the moon...she flew the broom higher, closer to the glowing orb...just a few inches closer now, and she could touch it...but her fingers closed on cold, smooth nothingness...
She slipped sideways off the broom, and the air rushed past her...her eyes slid in and out of focus...and she passed out and knew no more.
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"Liz, wake up...Liz...Liz..."
Liz opened her eyes. "What happened?" she muttered thickly. "Am I dead?"
"No," Chris answered, and he swam into view above her. "I caught you when you fell off your broom."
"Quite the flier he is," Madame Lesille remarked from the corner. "I saw him catch you all the way out there and I immediately went out there to get you. You could have been killed!"
"I know," Liz said sheepishly. Now she saw the stupidity in what she had done. "I'm sorry. Thanks, Chris."
Chris smiled.
"All right, Chris, you've done your part for tonight," Madame Lesille said. "You can go on back now."
But Chris insisted on staying the night and making sure that Liz was all right in the morning, so the nurse finally relented. She looked upon them and smiled. Liz soon fell asleep under Chris' watchful gaze.
Madame Lesille released Liz from the hospital wing the next morning. Chris told her that he had to get back to Hagrid. Liz thanked him once more, and then she ran off the find Michael and Rachel.
"Liz! Are you okay?" Rachel yelped. "Madame Lesille sent somebody to tell us early this morning, and we were so worried!"
"Why were you out there in the first place, Liz?" Michael asked, trying not to act concerned, but his eyes showed otherwise.
Liz was relieved when John Peterson came down and said they'd better get to breakfast.
Liz really didn't want to tell Michael she was out there because she was jealous. He'd be upset and Rachel would be upset; it would all be very bad. But Michael seemed as intent on hearing her reason as she was on not telling him. For weeks she avoided the subject as subtly as she could, until one evening at dinner when Michael said suddenly, "So, Liz, you never told me. Why were you out on your broom that night?"
Rachel leaned in to hear Liz's response. Liz reddened and her cheeks went hot. "I...well, um..."
Somebody noisily burst through the doors to the Great Hall. It was a third- year Ravenclaw Liz knew only by face. "SHE'S GONE!" he called hysterically. "SHE'S DISAPPEARED!"
McGonagall and Madame Lesille rushed to him. "Who?" the headmistress asked the frantic boy. "Who's disappeared?"
"Cynthia Moyler," he gasped.
After a quick interrogation, McGonagall sent people to search the entire castle and grounds. The students all discussed what the boy had said.
"What'd he say?" Rachel said. "I couldn't make out what he was saying over his frantic gasps."
So Liz and Michael told her. Cynthia and the boy had been outside in the dark, kissing (Rachel giggled slightly at this) and he looked out into the night for not more than a minute. When he looked back at her, she was gone.
"Were they boyfriend and girlfriend or something?" Michael asked Liz.
"Oh, yes, they were," Desiree piped up from next to Rachel. "But I don't see how Francis ever got a girlfriend."
"His name is Francis?" Rachel laughed.
She stopped, however, when McGonagall reentered the Great Hall and announced that Cynthia Moyler was indeed missing.
"I don't believe it," said Liz.
Cynthia's disappearance was the only topic of discussion for weeks on end. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Garb assured them that he was working on solving the "case." Liz and Rachel couldn't help snorting at this, as they doubted he ever did anything but look in the mirror. Michael mocked Desiree's swooning fit.
The disappearance unnerved Liz greatly. Her dreams at night were filled with people vanishing and shadowy figures that vanished, too, into the night...
Liz awoke from one such dream covered in cold sweat. It was only a dream, she told herself. Just a dream. She sat up and breathed deeply. The moon was round and bright that night, and it shone on the Hogwarts grounds. And in the moonlight was a black figure. Liz blinked. It was probably Professor Garb. Maybe he was actually trying to solve Cynthia's disappearance.
With a yawn, Liz went back to bed.
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"Come on, you've got to come to the first Quidditch practice! Please?" Michael pleaded with Rachel and Liz.
"Why?" Liz grumbled. Her flying incident had driven all desires for playing or watching Quidditch far out of her mind.
"Because! You can see how good I am!"
"Please, Liz?" Rachel agreed. "It'll be fun!"
Liz sighed. "Fine. I'll come. Let's go before I change my mind."
They headed out. When they reached the entrance, Michael said, "See you later," and left, leaving Liz and Rachel to climb into the stands.
"I bet he's good," Rachel said as they ascended the steps.
"Yeah," Liz said. Cynthia's disappearance had driven Michael's relentless questioning about the reason for Liz's nighttime flying incident away. That was all very well, but Liz's thirst to prove herself in flying had gone to the other extreme in that she never even wanted to think about brooms or Quidditch ever again. She dreaded watching the Gryffindor team practice.
The Quidditch captain, Celeste Weaver stood tall and faced her team. "All right, team," she called, and her voice echoed up into the stands. "As you all know, we have a new team member, Michael Weasley. He's our new Seeker. Michael, this is Sarah McGuire, the Keeper. These are Shannon Dogginsen and Mitchell Mikey, Chasers. I'm the other Chaser. This is Marshall Wong and Stephanie Allen, our Beaters. Guys, this is Michael Weasley." Michael waved a bit. "Now, on your brooms. Let's fly!"
The team mounted and took off in a blur of scarlet and gold. Celeste had Marshall and Stephanie throw golf balls to Michael so he could try to catch them while she, the other Chasers, and the Keeper practiced scoring and saving goals with the Quaffle. It was all so fast-paced.
"Look, he caught another one!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing at Michael, but Liz hadn't been watching; she was watching Shannon put a goal past Sarah, who didn't seem to be the best Keeper for the job.
An hour later, Celeste called the team together, said a few words, and dismissed them until next week. Michael met up with Liz and Rachel as they exited the Quidditch pitch.
"Was I good?" he asked.
"Oh, definitely," Rachel said.
"Yeah, you were," Liz agreed. Jealousy and fear were a thing of the past now. They traipsed happily back up to the castle.
By that night, Liz's grin had vanished from her face. The jealousy was coming back, and she felt cheated out of a talent she should have inherited from her father. Michael's dad had even said that he was horrible at Quidditch in his youth. So why did Michael have all the talent?
So great was the thirst to prove herself that Liz snuck out of the Gryffindor tower at midnight, one of the school brooms tucked under her arm. She would show everyone that she could fly just as well as, if not better than, Michael.
Once out of the castle and on the grounds, Liz looked up at the moon as it shone on Hagrid's cabin. Then she put the broom on the ground, stuck her arm out, and said, "UP!" The broom remained motionless.
"Aw, who does that anyway," she muttered, picking it up and mounting correctly.
She kicked off the ground easily, and that gave her false hope. The broom changed speed suddenly. It was going too fast for her to control it. It was like the broom had a mind of its own, and she was just along for the ride. It twirled and spun and jerked around so fast that Liz's head spun. "HELP!" she yelled, knowing no one would hear.
But someone did. Chris came running out with a broom in his hand. "What are you doing?" he yelled up at her.
"I don't know—AAAAAAAAAA!" she screamed as the broom rocketed upward at an astounding speed. It got to an amazing altitude where there was little oxygen for Liz to breathe. Her broom handle seemed to multiply into four, spinning around each other, making her dizzy and giddy at the same time. The cold was so nice, a sleepy sort of nice, the kind that made you want to lie down...The broom stopped horizontally, and she did lay down...someone was yelling, but she didn't know who...suddenly she was filled with a longing to touch the moon...she flew the broom higher, closer to the glowing orb...just a few inches closer now, and she could touch it...but her fingers closed on cold, smooth nothingness...
She slipped sideways off the broom, and the air rushed past her...her eyes slid in and out of focus...and she passed out and knew no more.
center* * */center
"Liz, wake up...Liz...Liz..."
Liz opened her eyes. "What happened?" she muttered thickly. "Am I dead?"
"No," Chris answered, and he swam into view above her. "I caught you when you fell off your broom."
"Quite the flier he is," Madame Lesille remarked from the corner. "I saw him catch you all the way out there and I immediately went out there to get you. You could have been killed!"
"I know," Liz said sheepishly. Now she saw the stupidity in what she had done. "I'm sorry. Thanks, Chris."
Chris smiled.
"All right, Chris, you've done your part for tonight," Madame Lesille said. "You can go on back now."
But Chris insisted on staying the night and making sure that Liz was all right in the morning, so the nurse finally relented. She looked upon them and smiled. Liz soon fell asleep under Chris' watchful gaze.
Madame Lesille released Liz from the hospital wing the next morning. Chris told her that he had to get back to Hagrid. Liz thanked him once more, and then she ran off the find Michael and Rachel.
"Liz! Are you okay?" Rachel yelped. "Madame Lesille sent somebody to tell us early this morning, and we were so worried!"
"Why were you out there in the first place, Liz?" Michael asked, trying not to act concerned, but his eyes showed otherwise.
Liz was relieved when John Peterson came down and said they'd better get to breakfast.
Liz really didn't want to tell Michael she was out there because she was jealous. He'd be upset and Rachel would be upset; it would all be very bad. But Michael seemed as intent on hearing her reason as she was on not telling him. For weeks she avoided the subject as subtly as she could, until one evening at dinner when Michael said suddenly, "So, Liz, you never told me. Why were you out on your broom that night?"
Rachel leaned in to hear Liz's response. Liz reddened and her cheeks went hot. "I...well, um..."
Somebody noisily burst through the doors to the Great Hall. It was a third- year Ravenclaw Liz knew only by face. "SHE'S GONE!" he called hysterically. "SHE'S DISAPPEARED!"
McGonagall and Madame Lesille rushed to him. "Who?" the headmistress asked the frantic boy. "Who's disappeared?"
"Cynthia Moyler," he gasped.
After a quick interrogation, McGonagall sent people to search the entire castle and grounds. The students all discussed what the boy had said.
"What'd he say?" Rachel said. "I couldn't make out what he was saying over his frantic gasps."
So Liz and Michael told her. Cynthia and the boy had been outside in the dark, kissing (Rachel giggled slightly at this) and he looked out into the night for not more than a minute. When he looked back at her, she was gone.
"Were they boyfriend and girlfriend or something?" Michael asked Liz.
"Oh, yes, they were," Desiree piped up from next to Rachel. "But I don't see how Francis ever got a girlfriend."
"His name is Francis?" Rachel laughed.
She stopped, however, when McGonagall reentered the Great Hall and announced that Cynthia Moyler was indeed missing.
"I don't believe it," said Liz.
Cynthia's disappearance was the only topic of discussion for weeks on end. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Garb assured them that he was working on solving the "case." Liz and Rachel couldn't help snorting at this, as they doubted he ever did anything but look in the mirror. Michael mocked Desiree's swooning fit.
The disappearance unnerved Liz greatly. Her dreams at night were filled with people vanishing and shadowy figures that vanished, too, into the night...
Liz awoke from one such dream covered in cold sweat. It was only a dream, she told herself. Just a dream. She sat up and breathed deeply. The moon was round and bright that night, and it shone on the Hogwarts grounds. And in the moonlight was a black figure. Liz blinked. It was probably Professor Garb. Maybe he was actually trying to solve Cynthia's disappearance.
With a yawn, Liz went back to bed.
center* * */center
"Come on, you've got to come to the first Quidditch practice! Please?" Michael pleaded with Rachel and Liz.
"Why?" Liz grumbled. Her flying incident had driven all desires for playing or watching Quidditch far out of her mind.
"Because! You can see how good I am!"
"Please, Liz?" Rachel agreed. "It'll be fun!"
Liz sighed. "Fine. I'll come. Let's go before I change my mind."
They headed out. When they reached the entrance, Michael said, "See you later," and left, leaving Liz and Rachel to climb into the stands.
"I bet he's good," Rachel said as they ascended the steps.
"Yeah," Liz said. Cynthia's disappearance had driven Michael's relentless questioning about the reason for Liz's nighttime flying incident away. That was all very well, but Liz's thirst to prove herself in flying had gone to the other extreme in that she never even wanted to think about brooms or Quidditch ever again. She dreaded watching the Gryffindor team practice.
The Quidditch captain, Celeste Weaver stood tall and faced her team. "All right, team," she called, and her voice echoed up into the stands. "As you all know, we have a new team member, Michael Weasley. He's our new Seeker. Michael, this is Sarah McGuire, the Keeper. These are Shannon Dogginsen and Mitchell Mikey, Chasers. I'm the other Chaser. This is Marshall Wong and Stephanie Allen, our Beaters. Guys, this is Michael Weasley." Michael waved a bit. "Now, on your brooms. Let's fly!"
The team mounted and took off in a blur of scarlet and gold. Celeste had Marshall and Stephanie throw golf balls to Michael so he could try to catch them while she, the other Chasers, and the Keeper practiced scoring and saving goals with the Quaffle. It was all so fast-paced.
"Look, he caught another one!" Rachel exclaimed, pointing at Michael, but Liz hadn't been watching; she was watching Shannon put a goal past Sarah, who didn't seem to be the best Keeper for the job.
An hour later, Celeste called the team together, said a few words, and dismissed them until next week. Michael met up with Liz and Rachel as they exited the Quidditch pitch.
"Was I good?" he asked.
"Oh, definitely," Rachel said.
"Yeah, you were," Liz agreed. Jealousy and fear were a thing of the past now. They traipsed happily back up to the castle.