ANTHONY GOLDSTEIN

"Thank you," I said to Zacharias after he complemented my abilities to wield the Air Ani. We were allowing ourselves to drift around aimlessly. We chattered about random stuff. I learned a lot about him. For one, he was not being so snobbish and rude. Under the crude exterior, he did indeed have a heart.

Zacharias nodded, closing his blue eyes half-way. "I think I'm getting prunish. Want to come onto dry land?" I nod, although I don't want to. But if he will make an attempt to be nice, then why shouldn't I be nice to him and hope he stays that way.

"So is it true?" I asked as we swam lazily to the bank. "Are you really related to Helga Hufflepuff?"

He nodded. "Yeah—on my dad's side. It goes from me to my dad to my grandfather to his father to his sister and my Great Aunt Hepzibah Smith (the last known owner of Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket) and so on and so forth." I was wonderstruck.

"It's neat that you can trace your family tree back that far. I don't know my parents, so I couldn't possibly." You'd think it'd be hard to talk about being adopted and what not. It isn't. I mean, hey, yeah, my parents abandoned me. But my real parents (the ones who adopted me) made up for that. They took me in. I don't even look like them!

I mean, not to bring race into it, but if an English couple can adopt you despite the fact that you're different in appearance than they are, then that really means something. I'm pretty sure I'm Indian, but that's only judging by my appearance and other Indian's. Race isn't anything more than a man-made categorization to decide who is better than whom—that's the origins of it. I'm speaking from a muggle perspective. It's the same way with wizards. That Pureblood, half-blood, muggle-born stuff is pure crap. Just like in the muggle world, you cannot take a blood test to determine if a witch's parents were muggles or not—that's the reason I'm not sure if I'm Indian or not. But that's ethnicity and another rant.

We were silent for a good couple of minutes. I pulled myself onto the soft grass of the riverbank and let my hands fall into the water. It was cold and I liked it. I swished my hand through the crystal liquid and would have fallen asleep had Zacharias not slip his head from under the surface and between my outstretched arms. Here I thought he was being romantic or something—he wasn't. I know because he pulled me in by my arms and left me flailing around.

After I was able to regain my composure, Zacharias was in for it. I reached my arms outward and gored him with my arms under the water. That should have taught him. It did. He didn't resurface. Gaping, I submerged myself. My arms wind -milled around, causing an excess of air-bubbles to fly to the surface (I mean, I was good with the Air Ani but to have mastered it by now would be ridiculous).

Fighting through my panic (a great talent of mine), I was able to make an air bubble around my head. I was able to see even better as I looked for him. I went to the surface for a quick replenishment of air when I saw Zacharias posing on the bank in all his glory, smirking at me.

I was flabbergasted! I knew what he did! He went under and melded with the rocks. He was able to follow a path to the bank and make me look like an idiot. I scowled and raised myself out of the lake.

I made wind hit me so to dry me off as I got on my underwear and shirt. Zacharias tried coming up to me, but practicality was on my side. Controlling air didn't mean just making wind. Air can be strong even without moving. I demonstrate that with my placing air molecule upon air molecule upon air molecule. Being raised by muggles paid off in the Wizarding world for once. One word explained it: Science. Besides, seeing Zacharias' face in stupidity made me feel good.