I am sosososososo sorry for not updating sooner! I hope anyone who might possibly have been reading before won't mind tooooo much and will still leave me a review… please? Lol… Hope it's worth the wait:
The rest of the week swept by in a blur of homework and classes. In all of my charms and transfiguration classes I simply pretended to do magic and we still hadn't had to use our books in defense against the dark arts.
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear and all of the people in my year were either complaining because they didn't have flying lessons until next week or celebrating because they had them this week. I was among the lucky few who got to amble out onto the muddy quidditch pitch for the very first flying lessons of the year. I was rather nervous because although I'd come from a wizarding family, I'd only ridden a broom once or twice and I was never very good at anything in gym.
But I considered myself lucky, some muggle-borns had never even held a broom in their lives… unless of course, they were sweeping with it.
So, we trekked out through the mud to a row of musty, ancient looking brooms that had been lined up on the grass. The teacher, Madam Hooch, quickly blew her whistle and called the class to order, instructing us to choose a broom and stand beside it. We spent a long time practicing holding the brooms and reciting proper safety policies.
Finally, after much inspection and criticism, Madam Hooch grudgingly allowed us to hold out a hand and command the broom 'up!' My broom shivered slightly and than rolled over. I tried again. Maybe one of the tail twigs had started to drift upward? Again I commanded, "Up!" At last the broom reluctantly drifted lazily into my outstretched hand. I glanced up and down the line of people.
Our lesson was with Gryffindor. Apparently they switched it up often, so next lesson we might end up flying with Hufflepuff or Slytherin. I rather hoped that this didn't happen. Fred and George had been warning everyone that Slytherin was the fiercest team on the quidditch pitch and first year Slytherins were often instructed to permanently injure anyone with any possible flying potential.
Angelina's broom had leapt into her hand immediately. So had Alicia's. I couldn't help but smile when I saw that Victoria's broom hadn't even moved. Good blood isn't everything! I looked around for Fred and George. They'd been playing quidditch for years. One of their brothers was supposed to be the best seeker the Gryffindor team had seen in a century or something. I was sure they'd have their brooms in their hands on the first try.
However, when I looked around, there was no trace of the vivid red hair that I had learned was a Weasley trademark.
"Look!" a clumsy Gryffindor boy called Kevin Towler called. He was pointing up toward the top of a tall beech tree on the edge of the lake. There, merrily using dead branches to bat a large grey stone back and forth were the Weasleys. Madam Hooch blasted her whistle, yelling shrilly for them to come down.
The Weasleys looked at each other, shrugged, dropped their sticks and the rock and swooped gracefully back down to Earth. Madam Hooch pounced on them, screaming about 'what could have happened' and 'complete disregard for rules'.
"We were just having a bit of fun…" Fred said meekly, cowering under her severe reprimand.
"A bit of fun? A bit of fun! I clearly told the class that they were not to mount their brooms until I had given them careful instructions and they had my full attention! You could have been killed! What would happen if two students under my supervision fell to their deaths?"
"We've been playing for years, ma'am! We wouldn't fall!" George cried indignantly.
"Nevertheless, rules are rules and you have broken a very important one regarding your own safety! I shall have to tell your head of house about this!"
We never did get to mount our brooms that class. Madam Hooch spent the remainder of the lesson telling the twins off and then lecturing us about the importance of following the rules and regulations of flying lessons. It seemed that Fred and George intended to keep the promise they'd made. Only the first week of school and they'd already severely broken a rule. Judging by their identical slightly smug and plotting looks as they left the quidditch pitch, they were just getting started.
When I marched back to the castle for lunch that afternoon, I was actually rather disappointed. I'd almost been looking forward to learning to fly once I'd gotten over my initial nerves. However, I was immediately cheered up when, muttering darkly about Fred and George ruining the lesson, Angelina and Alicia joined me for lunch.
We ate sitting on the steps in the outdoor courtyard. It was warm and a gentle breeze ruffled our hair. The sun was still shining beautifully and I couldn't have had a more pleasant afternoon.
Later that day as I wandered aimlessly down another twisting corridor, hoping to find my way either to the library or common room before dinner so I could catch up on homework, I heard a loud bang in the next hall. Several people screamed and a cloud of purple smoke billowed down the passage to meet me.
When I reached the place where the sound had come from, devastation almost worse than my attempts at transfiguration was revealed by the thinning smog. According to the witnesses, someone had let off a set of magical fireworks… inside.
"I'll bet anything Fred and George Weasley did this," someone behind me said. I turned to see Tajel Zarri, a Hufflepuff girl in my year, talking to Kayla Hanson. "I heard they blew up a tree at their flying lesson today!" she said. This was a slight exaggeration, but I was sure they'd be happy to do so if they had a chance.
"Well," said Kayla, "When they get caught, they're going to be in huge trouble!"
Tajel nodded earnestly. She was small and dark with huge expressive eyes. The worried, confused look on her face almost reminded me of Veruna in a funny sort of way. An unanticipated pang of homesickness swept over me and I was reminded that I needed to write my family and friends. I could see several teachers approaching and I decided I'd better make myself scarce.
I headed off, possibly in search of the common room, although if I found the owlery before I found my dormitory, I wouldn't mind just going there. As I wandered past another suit of armor scratching its head (it was the third I'd seen, although I might have been going in circles), someone called to me in the hallway.
"Sarah Starell?" Morgan Welsh-Linn, the fifth year who'd first showed us to our dormitory walked over to deliver her message, "Professor McGonagall would like to see you."
What had I done? For a second I panicked, I'd been completely caught off guard, but after a moment I realized that she'd probably managed to schedule some extra transfiguration lessons. Morgan saw my worried look and she quickly said, "You're not in trouble, it's nothing bad!"
"Oh good! Thanks," I said, I was about to go when I realized that I had no idea where McGonagall's office was.
I hesitated. Morgan, who had started to walk away, suddenly turned. As if she had read my mind, she said, "I'll bring you there. I remember how confusing the castle was for me in my first year."
I followed her gratefully, trotting to keep up with the tall prefect's stride. "So where exactly in the U.S. are you from?" she asked after a moment. She wasn't being rude or nosy like Victoria, she was simply curious; she was just trying to make conversation.
"The east coast, Boston, to be exact. Or Willow Park, have you ever heard of it?" I asked.
"Of course! It's one of the magic capitals of the world. I think it's one of the top ten biggest magical cities."
We wandered on in silence for a while, "Do you like the school so far?" Morgan asked.
"Yeah, I suppose. It's awfully big, though."
"No kidding. I got horribly lost in my first week; I ended up in a forbidden broom closet or something…" Morgan was quiet for a moment while she mused about other adventures she'd had as a first year. "Are you getting on well with the others?" she asked.
"I came from Oceania. Fortland, the only magical city in New Zealand. My dad was English, so he wanted to send me to Hogwarts. You'd never know now that I wasn't born here, my family moved to England in my second year, but I remember how tough it was feeling different from everyone else."
I didn't really know what to say. Morgan's plight sounded almost exactly like mine. It was nice to have someone so sympathetic, but she was a fifth year now with a perfect English accent. Maybe I ought to convince my family to move… Even as I thought of the idea I knew it was impossible. We'd never have the money. Besides our life was back home, in America. And what about my friends? If I moved I'd never see them again, I'd never ever have any real friends ever again.
We'd reached McGonagall's office, but Morgan motioned for me to be quiet and hung back around the corner. "Really!" McGonagall was saying, "Those Weasley twins! It's their first week in school for Merlin's sake! Haven't they wreaked enough havoc without destroying half the Defense Against the Dark Arts Department?"
"Shall I get them, Minerva?" Professor Kowen asked.
"Yes. Tell them they are to come to me immediately!" Professor Kowen swept from the room and walked down the hall away from us.
"I haven't seen anything like this since Sirius Black and James Potter attended this school!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed.
"Potter and Black beat Fred and George Weasley by one day! Blew up the third floor bathroom on the fifth day of school!" Professor Flitwick squeaked.
"I can't understand it! Their brother Percy is an absolute angel and Bill was a wonderful student! Even Charlie Weasley never did anything like this!"
"Give them time, Minerva, and I'm certain they'll give even Potter and Black a run for their money!" Flitwick said, chuckling, before following after Professor Kowen.
"I certainly hope not…" McGonagall muttered. Morgan was shaking with silent laughter.
"I've never seen McGonagall that upset! I hope those Weasley brothers aren't expelled, Hogwarts could do with a little chaos now and then, I think," she whispered.
"You're a prefect!" I exclaimed, aghast, "Can't you get- I don't know, demoted or something for saying that?"
"No!" Morgan said, laughing, "That's the nice thing about being a prefect, no one ever suspects you of anything." Glancing back toward McGonagall's office she added, "Oh, you'd better go in now."
I nodded, "Thanks…"
She smiled, "Anytime!" Nervously, I turned and entered Professor McGonagall's office.
"Hello?" she said angrily, then looked up, "Oh, it's you… Miss Starell… Yes, well, I've asked around and Professor Kowen has agreed to work with you on your magical techniques. She'd like to meet with you twice a week, Tuesday after dinner and Friday during your 2:00 free. Will that be alright?"
"Yes Professor," I said.
"Good… Professor Kowen will report to me on your progress and you will demonstrate what you have learned during my classes."
"Thank you, Professor," I said as I turned to go.
"And Sarah," she said, calling me back, "You will work hard, will you not? Practice often?"
"Yes, of course…"
"Good. You may go." I left the room feeling oddly nervous and confused. I felt as if I'd missed something, as if there was something more to our conversation that I couldn't quite grasp. It was the strangest feeling and I had no idea what it could possibly be about.
Hope you enjoyed! Please, please, leave me a review! I'm sorry for taking so long, I've been really busy with school and I kind of got caught up in another story I was working on… I know, excuses, excuses… Well, I'll stop chattering and let you review!