:D This may be a record! Two chapters back-to-back! Once more for Mystic!
Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Sorting Time
It was mid-morning before Meidh next awoke. She stretched and rose smoothly from her bed. Stopping for the five deep breaths she tried to start every day with, a wave of relief washed over her. Thinking back to the night before Meidh was startled; how much had she told McGonagall? Walking out into the common room after dressing, McRobertson noticed the professor reading by the fire. McGonagall looked up and smiled.
"Feeling better?" she inquired. Meidh sat opposite.
"Yeah, much…umm…what all did I say last night?"
McGonagall looked sympathetic, "The story of how you came to be here since your brother's death. If you would like, some of the professors are meeting in the staff lounge shortly for some tea and a chat. Would you care to join us?"
"Sure… err… Professor, did you tell anyone what I said last night."
"Not a word, I simply told them that you had had a rough night and were sleeping in." McGonagall assured.
"Thank-you," Meidh said genuinely relieved.
"However I would like you to tell the Headmaster the basics. He should know," the professor stated firmly.
Seeing no viable excuse out, McRobertson relented. "In private, just you, him and me. I don't want it broadcast."
"Certainly, shall we go then?" McGonagall rose and Meidh followed her out of the room.
The rest of the morning, Meidh entertained Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Madam Hooch, Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster with stories of her father and brother. For the first time in many, many months, she recalled some of the mischief she caused in the workshop. From setting the table saw to reverse, to unplugging the planer and not saying anything, she had driven her father up one wall and down the other – as he used to say. That's what had prompted him to being to teach her how to use some tools, it kept her busy and out of trouble.
After lunch, Madam Hooch came up to Meidh with a proposition. "I contacted my nephew, who plays Quidditch for England. He's coming this afternoon with a few friends. They would love to teach you the basics of Quidditch. Are you interested?"
Meidh nearly fell over in shock, "Yeah, definitely, that sounds great!"
Hooch looked 'tickled pink' as her family used to say. "Change and grab your broom, I'll meet you down at the pitch."
Short minutes later, McRobertson jogged out onto the pitch. She skidded to a stop as four large young men turned towards her. The blonde haired one stepped forward and held out his hand.
"Kurtis Hooch. Pleased to meet you, Miss McRobertson."
Meidh swallowed, reached out and shook the offered hand. After a quick run through of the basics, the men mounted their brooms and took off for a short demonstration. Madam Hooch arrived and smiled at the look of awe of Meidh's face.
"Which position would you like to try first?"
"Seeker," she replied after careful consideration. The test went smoothly until the snitch came up behind her. Meidh's attention was focused on the chasers and the keeper. Kurtis smiled. Seeking wasn't for McRobertson. After another test, the men knew keeping wasn't one of her skills either. One of the young men handed her his bat with a quick explanation.
This is much better. Meidh thought.
"Who do I hit, err … aim for?" she asked eagerly.
"Whomever, generally you go for the chasers to stop them from scoring. Everyone's different so go for anyone other than the keeper – unless the Quaffle is within scoring range."
Meidh nodded and made her way over to the end of the pitch they were using. Watching for the black iron ball, Meidh made her decision on which player to go after. It took only three tries before she managed to catch the seeker off guard. The bludger ploughed into his side.
With a groan, Braden barely had time to land before he slipped from his broom. Madam Hooch bustled up.
"I'll take him up to Madam Pomfrey. You four continue the lesson." She spelled the nearly unconscious seeker onto a stretcher. Meidh had no desire to look at the remaining three men. Forcing herself to look up, she found Kurtis and the remaining beater watching her with apprehension. Braden was one of the best seekers in Britain. For her to catch him that far off guard was quite unique. The keeper looked at her with contempt. The young woman simply had no sense.
Kurtis flew over and took the bat from McRobertson. "Somehow I don't think Madam Pomfrey would appreciate you doing any more beating today."
"Or ever," Meidh added with a grin. "So, chasing?"
"Let's have a go," Kurtis replied.
Two near scores, six blocked attempts and a goal later the men called quit time to the lesson. Meidh smiled chasing was so much fun. The excitement and fast pace forced her to pay attention. When the group arrived at the hospital wing she hesitated at the door. Only with Kurtis' urging did she dare set foot inside.
"Braden'll probably want to congratulate you." Kurtis assured her. With no small amount of trepidation, Meidh stepped over to the bedside. Braden smiled when he saw her. He looked a little pale but otherwise fine. He was the one who broke the silence.
"Your aunt had to go," Braden explained to Kurtis. "She said something about helping get ready for supper. I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey healed me up quickly but insisted I stay until the lesson was over."
Madam Pomfrey came bustling over and fixed Meidh with a reproachful look. "I trust you won't be doing any more beating. My medi-potions store is hardly sufficient to handle such on a regular basis.
Meidh grinned, "Well… no, I'm going to try for chaser, though beating is a lot of fun. It really gets out the aggression."
Just then Professor McGonagall entered the ward. Spotting Meidh, she hurried over to the group.
"Kurtis, how wonderful to see you again. Are you and your friends staying for supper?"
"That would be a real treat, Professor. Unfortunately, we'd best be getting back. There's a match coming up in less than a month and the coach has ordered practice almost every morning." Kurtis explained.
"Unfortunate but understandable." McGonagall turned to her new pupil, "Meidh, it will be a semi-formal supper tonight. Please change into your school robes; I will pick you up at our common room at precisely 7:30pm."
"Professor, I know the way," Meidh protested.
"Yes, but I shall escort you. This is a tradition that we shall observe."
McRobertson gave a long-suffering sigh, "Fine, I guess I'd better go and get ready. It was fun learning to play guys. Maybe we can have another go sometime."
Kurtis shook her hand, "Take care and no more playing beater. No repeats of what happened today!"
By 7:20pm Meidh was ready. She studied her reflection in the mirror. The robes weren't too bad but she was glad Madam Malkin had been persuaded to let her buy pants as well as the skirt.
I hate skirts. Pants are so much more practical. Just have to be careful, if Dumbledore notices I'll be in so much trouble. Carefully she rolled up her pants so as to present the illusion of wearing a proper girls' uniform.
At promptly 7:30pm, McGonagall knocked on Meidh's door, "Time to go."
When the pair walked into the Great Hall, Meidh saw the round table she had come to expect was gone. In its place were four empty tables that ran the length of the hall and the Head table at the far end. McGonagall led the way towards the head table. Meidh saw a very old witch's hat sitting on top of a three-legged stool. The professor picked up the hat and indicated for Meidh to take a seat on the stool.
"Now for the Sorting," the Professor said, just before setting the hat on Meidh's head.
"Well, hello there," the Hat said in Meidh's ear. "I haven't seen someone from your family in a long time. Where do you belong? I see a great many things in your mind. Cunning, wit, loyalty, and bravery all exist here. I can see you do follow traditions when you choose to. Your family was traditionally in either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Ravenclaw would be a good match as you wish to learn as much as possible as fast as you can this summer. However, the losses in your life will require help to heal properly. Now this is interesting. You trust Professor McGonagall over all the other Professors here. Well, if that is the bond you have chosen to form to help your soul heal, I will not separate you from that. So the best choice for you will be… Gryffindor!" The last word the hat shouted for all to hear.
The next morning Dumbledore greeted Meidh warmly when she arrived in the Great Hall for breakfast.
"Today is the first full day of lessons. Here is your timetable. The first lesson will be Herbology with Professor Sprout. At the end of each lesson, the professor will escort you to the next class, until you learn your way around."
Meidh's last class that morning was Potions. Professor Flitwick dropped her off at the door. Meidh had already sat down and started thumbing through the text, when Professor Snape burst through the door.
"There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class."
Meidh suppressed a snort with difficulty. Contents of the file marked 'duh'. After all, what does waving a wand have to do with making potions?
"As such, I don't expect you to understand the subtle science and exact art that is Potion making." Snape continued.
Meidh immediately bristled and before she realized what she was doing she said, "In that case, I don't expect you to ever come close to hoping to understand the 'subtle science and exact art' that is me."
Snape pressed his lips into an extraordinarily thin line. "How dare you talk back to me? I am your professor and I will be respected!"
"Gotta give it to get it." Meidh retorted.
---------------------------------
Yup, she's not afraid to give what she gets. Snape… well let's just say she ranks right with Harry on his list of students he likes to teach. ;)
Please let me know what you think!
Thanks and Christmas candies for everyone!
Disclaimer: Ms. Rowling is a gold medal writer, I'm not. However I have been advised to add this: All concepts, ideas and characters not recognized from the Harry Potter Series belong to the author unless otherwise specified.