Chapter 5
She sat up with me all that night. We didn't talk. We just enjoyed
each others' company. That night I felt happy, not proud like I had
just completed one of my "jobs", but honestly happy.
The next morning I tiredly ambled down to the Great Hall. A group of
lazy clouds just kinda' floated around the ceiling. I sat down in my
normal spot at the far end of the table only to hear my name called
out.
"Hey, Raven! Come sit over here." It was Hermione. She was sitting
with a group of Gryffindor sixth years and beckoned me over. I
tentatively took up a seat next to her and averted my eyes from all
those around me.
"Hermione," I whispered, "I don't think I belong here. I think I
should move back."
"Nonsense! Would you not think everyone's judging you for once! Oh, I
would like to introduce you to a few of my friends." I raised my head
to look at her nervously.
"This is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ron's sister Ginny. Guys this
is Raven."
"Hey! Isn't she the one who beat Malfoy to a pulp yesterday?" asked
the flaming red-head identified as, Ron. I eyed him suspiciously then
nodded slowly.
"Bloody hell you're a good fighter! Anyone who whips up on that prick
is a friend of mine!" he said laughing. I wasn't sure if he was
serious or not, but since he continued to appear happy with my
presence I guessed he had been.
"It's nice to meet you," said the second boy more formally. I gave him
a quick "once-over." Scar, glasses, uncombed hair; this kid is either
a mental delinquent or computer geek that got fried while trying to
replace a blown circuit. I laughed to myself at this contemplation.
Ron's sister sat quietly beside him. She like her brother had pure red
hair, but a quite different stance. Ginny's slender bone structure
looked as if she would fall apart at the slightest touch.
"When does Quidditch practice begin?" Hermione asked
"The team is going to meet this afternoon. We need to agree on a new
captain and practice times," Harry answered. I watched this boy. He
was tall and scraggly, but his motions were fluid. He is definitely an
athlete. Maybe not a physical competitor like in football, but his
reflex's are swift and he observes every detail around him. How
interesting this one is. I watched the supple curve of his neck as he
bent to eat his cereal. What am I doing? Analyzing a boy? Great, I'm
becoming like one of those "ditzy blondes" who hangs around malls
waiting for some boy to come pick them up.
These thoughts flew through my head until I finally found Harry
staring at me as well. I acted like I was coughing so I could tare
away from his crystal, green eyes. The silence was a little
unsettling. I re-adjusted in my seat and gazed down at my greasy eggs.
"What's Quidditch?" My curiosity had eventually gotten the better of
me.
"What's Quidditch!? You mean you've never heard of the best sport ever
played in the history of the world?"
I glared at Ron for his "smart" answer. Hermione instead began to
inform me on the basis of the sport.
"Well Quidditch is a game played in the air on broomsticks. There are
three types of balls used: a quaffle to score on one of the three
hoops on either side of the field, a bludger that goes around trying
to knock players off their brooms, and..."
"And most importantly," Ron interrupted, "the snitch, which flies
lightning fast so most of the time you can't even see it. It's people
like Harry whose job is to catch the buggar. That's how you end the
game."
"Sounds like my kind of game."
"Oh, geez! We're going to be late to Transfiguration! Come on you
three let's go!" And that was my introduction to the "Boy Who Lived." I didn't know at that time what he had done as a child. He seemed everything a normal, teenage boy should be. Although his demeanor was different. He seemed fazed by something; an eternal veil of sadness resided in his heart. Others may not recognize it, but once you've seen enough casualties you can easily seek out pain.
She sat up with me all that night. We didn't talk. We just enjoyed
each others' company. That night I felt happy, not proud like I had
just completed one of my "jobs", but honestly happy.
The next morning I tiredly ambled down to the Great Hall. A group of
lazy clouds just kinda' floated around the ceiling. I sat down in my
normal spot at the far end of the table only to hear my name called
out.
"Hey, Raven! Come sit over here." It was Hermione. She was sitting
with a group of Gryffindor sixth years and beckoned me over. I
tentatively took up a seat next to her and averted my eyes from all
those around me.
"Hermione," I whispered, "I don't think I belong here. I think I
should move back."
"Nonsense! Would you not think everyone's judging you for once! Oh, I
would like to introduce you to a few of my friends." I raised my head
to look at her nervously.
"This is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Ron's sister Ginny. Guys this
is Raven."
"Hey! Isn't she the one who beat Malfoy to a pulp yesterday?" asked
the flaming red-head identified as, Ron. I eyed him suspiciously then
nodded slowly.
"Bloody hell you're a good fighter! Anyone who whips up on that prick
is a friend of mine!" he said laughing. I wasn't sure if he was
serious or not, but since he continued to appear happy with my
presence I guessed he had been.
"It's nice to meet you," said the second boy more formally. I gave him
a quick "once-over." Scar, glasses, uncombed hair; this kid is either
a mental delinquent or computer geek that got fried while trying to
replace a blown circuit. I laughed to myself at this contemplation.
Ron's sister sat quietly beside him. She like her brother had pure red
hair, but a quite different stance. Ginny's slender bone structure
looked as if she would fall apart at the slightest touch.
"When does Quidditch practice begin?" Hermione asked
"The team is going to meet this afternoon. We need to agree on a new
captain and practice times," Harry answered. I watched this boy. He
was tall and scraggly, but his motions were fluid. He is definitely an
athlete. Maybe not a physical competitor like in football, but his
reflex's are swift and he observes every detail around him. How
interesting this one is. I watched the supple curve of his neck as he
bent to eat his cereal. What am I doing? Analyzing a boy? Great, I'm
becoming like one of those "ditzy blondes" who hangs around malls
waiting for some boy to come pick them up.
These thoughts flew through my head until I finally found Harry
staring at me as well. I acted like I was coughing so I could tare
away from his crystal, green eyes. The silence was a little
unsettling. I re-adjusted in my seat and gazed down at my greasy eggs.
"What's Quidditch?" My curiosity had eventually gotten the better of
me.
"What's Quidditch!? You mean you've never heard of the best sport ever
played in the history of the world?"
I glared at Ron for his "smart" answer. Hermione instead began to
inform me on the basis of the sport.
"Well Quidditch is a game played in the air on broomsticks. There are
three types of balls used: a quaffle to score on one of the three
hoops on either side of the field, a bludger that goes around trying
to knock players off their brooms, and..."
"And most importantly," Ron interrupted, "the snitch, which flies
lightning fast so most of the time you can't even see it. It's people
like Harry whose job is to catch the buggar. That's how you end the
game."
"Sounds like my kind of game."
"Oh, geez! We're going to be late to Transfiguration! Come on you
three let's go!" And that was my introduction to the "Boy Who Lived." I didn't know at that time what he had done as a child. He seemed everything a normal, teenage boy should be. Although his demeanor was different. He seemed fazed by something; an eternal veil of sadness resided in his heart. Others may not recognize it, but once you've seen enough casualties you can easily seek out pain.