It's so peaceful, lying in bed, typing and listening to the howling of wolves. They really sound like they're close by. It's given me inspiration to write this chapter, truly.
Willow gets a ride and meets a familiar face. And Harry and friends prepare to leave.
And a BIG thank you to my super secret beta. Mwah!
- - - - -
Chapter 3
Flying High
- - - - -
It was the day before Willow was going to leave for the new school. She was, by this time, excited beyond all belief. She could it difficult to sleep at night and was waking up earlier than she'd expected to browse about Diagon Alley.
It was quickly becoming her home. She'd spent hours poring over Numerology supplies. Not to mention even longer hours were spent in the store with all the fascinating quills and inkpads. She found herself lost in front of an entire display of eagle quills for over an hour until it dawned on her the extent of her geekiness. Apologizing to the shopkeep, she paid for the quills and quickly disappeared back into Diagon Alley.
She finally had everything she needed. A large stack of new textbooks were carefully marked and were ready to be read. She had taken the liberty of glancing through the first few chapters of each text. They grew more interesting as she sorted through the stacks.
She had also purchased enough parchment, quills and ink to keep her notes and things together. She didn't realize how much she'd bought until she realized she had an entire basket of quills. Flushing slightly, she binded some of them together and tucked them away into her bag for storage. Surely she didn't need thirty quills for the start of term. Once again, she found herself embracing her own nerdiness.
It was on this last day that she decided to wander toward a different store. It was one she'd passed frequently but hadn't stepped inside yet. It boasted top-quality Quidditch supplies. She decided it would be for the best to at least see what was inside. Ducking in past the doors, she found herself glancing at dozens of broomsticks suspended in mid-air.
In the back of the store, one of the assistants was giving a demonstration on the new prototype model, the Firebolt II. As he offered a young child the chance of a lifetime to get onto the broomstick and take it on a carefully controlled test flight, Willow found herself among the crowds watching with interest as the child zoomed gaily around the store with a resounding "Whee!".
Once the child was safely on the ground, everyone in the small store applauded loudly and set out to read up on this newest model. Willow herself was very interested in learning more about a broomstick and approached the sales assistant promptly. "Excuse me," she said, trying to talk over the sound of the dozens of other people talking. "I was wondering if by chance you could help me choose a broomstick."
The sales associate appeared to be delighted. "Of course!" he said, jovially, dragging her over to his counter and bending down behind it. "You've come to the right place, Ms... er..."
"Rosenberg," Willow said plainly. "That's my name."
"And a fine out at that," came his muffled reply. When he finally straightened, he was handing her a large box. "I knew right from the start and having that accent you must be one of the new Apocrypha folk."
"I am," Willow replied, surprised he guessed so easily. "I guess you were informed that we were coming."
He glanced at her as he started piling catalogue after catalogue onto the box. "Your assumptions are correct," he finally said, surveying her closely, as though slightly suspicious. "American, by the looks of you."
"I'm from California," Willow said quietly as he turned to rustle on the shelves behind him. Realizing the box was getting slightly heavy, she set it down on the edge of one of the counters and watched as he brought down a leatherbound book and handed it to her.
"This is all you'll need to figure out which broom you'd want," he said with a heavy shrug. "There's tables outside. And if you want a roll around the Alley, just let me know. I'd be more than happy to give you a test ride."
A test ride? Just the thought of being off her feet on one of those broomsticks was terrifying. But, then again, how was she ever going to learn?
She brought all of the things he'd given her and sat outside in the daylight. The warm sunshine felt welcome after standing in that cold storeroom for the past hour. Sifting through the catalogues, she narrowed her choice down to three broomsticks. After she set the brightly-colored booklets aside, she turned her attention to the box and opened it.
Inside was yet another stack of books and catalogues. But there was also a large bottle of some sort of wax and a large pair of shears. Confused, she replaced the goods and sealed the box. As she sat back down, she felt an uncomfortable poke in her rear. Reaching into her long navy robes, she pulled out her wand.
Twelve inches. And created from willow bark. It also contained part of the horn of a unicorn. After she'd purchased it two days ago, she'd been using it for target practice. Her aim was embarrassingly off as she kept knocking out windows or shattering mirrors instead of blasting a hole through a simple dart board. Once again, she figured it would just take a bit of time to get used to the new system.
As she continued to look through the books, she was unaware that someone was staring at her from across the street. It was only when she stood up and noticed him did she gather her things and move back inside. Once inside, it took her another half hour to narrow her choice from three to two. And the sales associate was nice enough to allow her to test both broomsticks in an uncontrolled outdoor environment.
Willow found herself tingling with excitement as the associate handed her the newly improved Nimbus 2003. He set it down on the ground and turned to her expectantly. Feeling as though the entire street was staring at her, she just stared back at the shopkeep, who was almost daring her to make an idiot of herself.
"Just say up," a quiet voice said from behind her.
Willow didn't dare turn around in case it was a trick of some kind. She stared at the broomstick a moment longer before whispering, "Up."
It didn't really move at all. It sort of wiggled and rolled over slightly.
"Place your hand over it," the voice advised again. "And say up."
Willow did what the man's voice had instructed her to do. She placed her hand over the broom, her eyes focused on the shiny wood. "Up!"
This time, the broomstick flew easily into her hands.
There was a scattering of applause in the Alley. Willow tried to hide her pink face but was unsuccessful. She also found she had a new dilemma. She had a broomstick in her hand but not one clue on how to even board or fly it. She was hoping she could ask the voice again and turned in the direction, only to see an older man staring hard at her.
"What do I do now?" she asked him curiously.
"Have you ever ridden a broom before?" he asked, his voice still soft.
She shook her head no. His eyebrows arched in surprise as he stepped forward. "Put your leg over that side... like so. And put your hands there and lift the front end up... like that... and when you're ready to fly... just surrender."
Willow didn't like hearing the sound of that at all. Closing her eyes, she whispered to herself, "Just let me go."
The broom seemed to listen to her as it lifted ever so slightly in the air. Bending forward slightly, her hands grasping the wooden barrel in an exceedingly tight grasp, the broom suddenly jolted twenty feet forward, jerking her back and forth. "Crap," she muttered, looking down. The ground was getting further and further away.
She pulled her shaking hands off the handle, leaning back slightly.
It seemed to be the break the broom was looking for. It suddenly shot out. Willow screamed as she replaced her grip, but the broom didn't slow. It soared over the rooftops and toward the mountains and a brilliant mid-day sky. As she smiled into the sunlight, the broom seemed to stop and reverse directions. With a shuddering gasp, Willow held on for dear life as the broom aimed down at nearly a forty degree angle, gathering speed quickly.
It pelted through the streets before stopping abruptly in front of the sales associate.
Pushing her windswept hair from her eyes, Willow unboarded the broom, barely able to stand on quaking knees. "I don't suppose you'd let me try the other one?" she asked lightly.
He snorted as he snatched the broomstick from her, stalking back inside.
"He's just upset, that's all," the voice said quietly again.
"As long as you've given me the satisfaction of humiliating myself forever," Willow said, crossing her arms, "the least you could do is introduce yourself."
His eyes flickered over her without the slightest bit of interest. "You really don't need to know who I am," he said crossly. "All you need to know is whether or not you can keep your pretty face from being smashed in when you get on the new Firebolt."
"Oh, no," Willow moaned as the assistant returned with the second broomstick. "Well, at least I know I can't get myself killed before start of term, right?"
Behind her, the voice snorted.
Willow walked reluctantly over and took the second broom in her hands. Whimpering sligtly, she boarded it. But it was much different than the last time. This one seemed to be thinking along the same lines as she was. As soon as she thought it would be nice to ascend a little slower than the last one, the broom lifted ever so slowly.
"I could get used to this," she whispered as the broom took a nice, leasurely trip around the outskirts of town before settling back down on the street.
The assistant eyed the broom and sighed as he lifted it. "It's the last one, if you'd like it," he said curtly.
Willow nodded. "I'll take it."
"What," the voice replied smugly, "you decided you didn't want to end up with all those broken bones in those fleshy cheeks?"
Willow bit back a retort as she disappeared inside. "Awfully charming fellow standing there," she fumed as she swiped her card.
He handed her a bit of parchment to sign. "Oh, that's just Malfoy, making troubles and excuses as he always does. With his parents in Azkaban, he has to be getting his kicks from somewhere. Just watch your back around him and you'll be fine."
Willow thought about that as he wrapped her broomstick and handed it to her. "The extra supplies are yours too," he said, gesturing to the box. Realizing she had to carry both, she managed to lift them awkwardly into her arms and stumble out of the shop.
"You look like you could use a hand."
It was that same agitating drawl.
"Look," Willow said, her temper getting the best of her, "if all you're going to do is throw around insults, I'm not interested. You could get off your lazy ass and help me, but I guess you're not man enough to do that."
His grey eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He walked toward her, towering over her. "I'd watch my tongue if you'd want to keep it," he said, his voice dangerous calm although his eyes were ablaze. As he took the box from her arms, he kept his eyes on her. "You're one of those new ones, aren't you?"
"I am," Willow said, defiantly lifting her chin in the air. As they retreated back to the Leaky Cauldron, Willow noticed the man was looking at her carefully. "What are you looking at?"
"You remind me of someone I know," he said, his voice less hostile as they climbed the steps. "Is this your room?"
She nodded and pushed the door open, inviting him inside. "Um... thank you for helping me."
"Anytime," he drawled, before backing out.
"It was good to meet you, Malfoy," she shouted at his retreating back.
Although 'good' might be a difficult word to use.
- - - - -
Inside the Three Broomsticks, a group of friends was enjoying one last butterbeer before their train ride to the new University. Ginny Weasley had joined them in her own anxiety to complete her seventh and final year at Hogwarts.
"I don't know how you're going to do it, Gin," Ron said, a teasing glint in his eye as he ordered another round. "Sole Weasley and a Head Girl to boot... some might just call you lucky."
"It's about time, too!" Ginny teased. "Finally when someone says 'Weasley', there won't be a whole handful of us looking over our shoulders and acknowledging it."
"Too right you are," Hermione replied. "Besides, it'll be good for you. You can make your own friends and you don't have to hang out with us ancients anymore."
Ginny squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "Well, you three were always the ones that I liked being around the most..."
"What about Looney?" Ron asked as the barkeep arrived, depositing a foaming mug of butterbeer in front of each of them. "I thought you said you liked her."
"I do," Ginny replied, her voice somewhat distant. "But let's face it. You three are the ones I've always been able to talk to." As she spoke, she kept her gaze strangely averted from Harry. No matter how far she tried to push down her feelings, every time she felt vulnerable, they always returned with a vengeance. "Especially you, Hermione."
Hermione leaned across the table and patted her hand. "You'll be all right, Ginny. And once this year is over, you can come and play with us next year!"
"I do hope you'll keep out of trouble," Ginny warned them as she sipped the warm liquid. "The last thing you need to do is brass off your new Professors."
"I have no intention of doing that," Hermione said boldly, her eyes on Ron and Harry, who's faces had cracked into identically evil grins. "And you two had better stow whatever it is your planning and stuff it."
"Right," Ron said, dragging out the word, the smile never leaving his face.
"Us, evil?" Harry replied, his own grin widening.
"What have you done?" Ginny asked Hermione in mock horror as the boys leaned in and began whispering.
"I have a feeling it involves whatever Fred and George sent us in our welcome baskets," Hermione replied heavily, letting her hand drop onto the table. "Or something."
There was a slight commotion at the entrance as another person walked inside and was being told off coldly by the owner. "Uh oh," Harry muttered under his breath. "It's Malfoy."
Ginny looked up, interest sparking in her dark eyes. Next to her, Ron scowled. "You cannot possibly be thinking what I think it is you're thinking."
"When are you going to ever realize he isn't this horrible person you've all made him out to be?" Ginny asked curiously.
"Probably never," Harry replied, his eyes still on the tall blonde. As much as he really liked Ginny, the thought of her even being near Malfoy brought a stab of white-hot jealousy to the pit of his stomach. "Ginny..."
But she had already stood up, tucking back her long sheet of vivid hair. Moving around Ron, she walked toward the entrance, calling out a cheerful greeting.
"Bloody hell!" Ron gasped from next to Harry. "The nerve of her!"
Across the table, Hermione giggled.
Once Draco had spotted Ginny, he reached out and took her hand, pulling her outside without another word to the owner, who seemed to seethe a moment before turning away.
Harry rose immediately to follow her. But it was Ron that held his arm and pushed him back down. "No, don't," Ron said with a sigh. "I don't want her to think we're crowding her. She's seventeen now... she knows what she's doing."
"Besides," Hermione said, slapping her empty mug on the table, "we have to finish packing for tomorrow, don't we?"
"I guess," Harry replied as all three rose and retreated back to their rooms. But as Harry passed by a window, he could see both Draco and Ginny sitting on a bench far below, hand in hand, enjoying conversation.
It was almost too much to think about, but then again, what did he really know?
- - - - -
To be continued... at the new school.