Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: This is written for the 7spells challenge.

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Finding My Place

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Each new morning is exactly like the one before it. I wake up (usually late), eat breakfast alone, and stumble off to class, where I usually make a fool of myself. It's not that I'm horrible at my lessons, exactly. It's just that I'm not taking to this whole magic thing as well as I (and my Mum) had hoped.

I hate Hogwarts. I've been looking forward to this for as long as I can remember, but now that I'm here, I just want to go home. From the moment I stepped onto the train, it just wasn't going well. I had tripped over my own bags and fallen into an older student, a Slytherin no less. He got angry and everyone around sniggered at me. I was so embarrassed!

That should have been a sign to give up before I did something worse, but I am stubborn. I came here anyway, nearly fell into the Black Lake, got sorted, tripped (again) over my own feet on the way to the Gryffindor table, and began my life as a first-year Hogwarts student.

I had confidence that no matter how bad the beginning was, it could only get better. I was wrong.

I've been here over a month now, and I still don't have any friends. I'm not a girly-girl, and I'm not afraid to speak my mind, which is probably why I don't get along with my roommates. Two of them are purebloods, and think they're better than me. Sometimes I think they should have been sorted into Slytherin. The other two are ditzy and boy-crazy. One is convinced she's a true seer, and the other, a muggle-born, takes her seriously.

I'm not very good at my lessons, despite growing up around wizards my whole life. Potions is by far the worst, but they're all pretty bad. Some days I'm can't manage to do magic at all, afraid of the disasters that could occur if I wave my wand the wrong way. My muggle-born roommate, who has no idea what's going on half the time, is doing better in lessons than I am!

It's all so frustrating.

Luckily, today we have our first flying lesson. That is something I'm good at. I've been flying for as long as I can remember, and I'm better at it than any of my cousins. Except for the landing bit, anyway. Why is it that as soon as my feet touch the ground, I become a total clutz?

So, after another lonely breakfast, I make my way outside. I find a witch with short graying hair and yellow hawk-like eyes standing between two rows of brooms, trying to organize the students. Our lesson today is with the Slytherins. Good. After the way they laughed at me after my feather exploded in Charms yesterday, this will be a chance to (hopefully) show them up.

The students eventually each find a broom, and stand beside it. There is a moment's distraction when two groups of older students show up to watch the lesson, one Gryffindor, one Slytherin, but Madame Hooch quickly redirects our attention. She goes over some basic safety instructions, and then shows us how to mount our brooms.

I place a hand over mine, and say "Up!" The broom, an old, worn-out Cleansweep, slowly lifts up to my hand. I look around to find that I am doing better than most of the other first-years. Most of the brooms still lay firmly on the ground, and a few are hovering tentatively in the air.

Only one other student, a dark-haired Slytherin boy with crooked teeth, is holding a broom. He gives me a leering, challenging smile and mounts it.

I swing a leg over my broom-handle and point the nose at the grass. Madame Hooch gives me an approving nod in between the cries for help from the less adept students. Once we are all on our brooms, she blows her whistle, and we are all to rise a few feet from the ground, then land.

I begin the ascent slowly, then rise faster. I close my eyes against the wind as it rushes by me. When I stop and open them, I see the crooked-toothed Slytherin hovering nearby. I loop around him and land, stumbling a bit as I touch the ground.

"You're unbalanced when you land."

I turn to the voice behind me. It is thick with a Scottish accent. The boy to whom it belongs is tall, maybe three or four years older than me, and very cute. I have a sudden urge to giggle and tug at my hair and bat my eyes. I feel like my ditzy roommates, and I am too stunned to reply.

"If you pull the nose of the broom up just as you touch ground, it's easier to balance," the boy said.

"Oh," I reply unintelligently. He looks at me expectantly, and I try it. It works, and I don't stumble so much.

"Thanks," I say

"Oliver Wood; I play keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team," he introduces himself.

"Katie Bell, a first-year who doesn't seem to be good at anything," I say. I've always been pretty blunt like that, and this statement startles Oliver.

"You're good at flying," he states. "In fact, you're probably the best flyer of your class."

"Err… thank you," I say. The compliment shocks me.

"In fact, I'd like to see you fly again," he says.

I slowly re-mount the broom and lift off the ground. "What do you want to see?" I ask.

"Do that loop again," he demands.

I speed up and do a short series of loops above his head. He watches, then takes something out of his bag.

"Catch!" he says, and throws the object a bit to my right.

I catch the object with ease, and find myself holding a ball a bit smaller than the average Quaffle.

I land with only a minimal amount of stumbling, and hand the ball back to him.

"The Quidditch team is looking for reserve players," Oliver says.

"Quidditch…" I think about it. Me, Katie Bell, on a house team. No, good things like that simply didn't happen to me, and besides, with my luck it would just be another opportunity to make a fool of myself. "I've only played a few pick-up games with my cousins," I say.

"That's okay. You've got potential," Oliver says. Ugh, the dreaded P-word. "We'll teach you everything you need to know, and in a year or two you'll be ready to be one of our starting chasers," Oliver offers.

"Okay," I agree.

"Great. Be at practice tonight at six," he says, and smiles again.

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The Gryffindor Quidditch team is rather friendly, and they don't laugh when I stumble, or snigger when I miss the ball. They all seem to agree with Oliver that I have potential. There are two seventh-years, one a chaser and the other a seeker. They don't seem too interested in me, and are more concerned with the House Cup for this year.

The other two chasers are second-years, a dark-skinned girl named Angelina, and a round-faced brunette named Alicia. The beaters are a pair of energetic twins named Fred and George. Both have shocking red hair and mischievous eyes. They all seem to like me, or at least the way I fly. They welcome me to the team as a reserve member, and give me some drills to practice.

The drills are tough, but fun. I love a good challenge. Up in the air, I am happier and more confident than I have been this whole time at Hogwarts. The other chasers are still better than me, but they say it's obvious I've got a natural talent, and I'll improve. Their faith in me lifts my own conviction.

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Despite my feeling of accomplishment from the night before, the next morning begins the same as every other; late, alone and groggy.

I pick at my breakfast, then go grudgingly to Potions class, where Professor Snape gives us a new potion to brew. I pair up with a Ravenclaw named Eddie.

"Okay, just cut up that root," he says, pointing to something white and twisted, "and I'll measure out the bat saliva and essence of belladonna."

I do as he says, because he seems to know more about this than I do.

"So do you like potions?" I ask him conversationally.

"Eh, no, not really," Eddie replies. "I'm fairly good at it, I suppose, but charms and transfiguration are more my thing. Oh, and flying."

"Oh, I love flying," I say, picking up on the only topic he mentioned that I can speak intelligently on. "I'm a reserve member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

"No way, you're only a first-year!" Eddie says. "That hardly ever happens!"

"Well, I am. I had my first practice last night," I say proudly.

We fall into a conversation on Quidditch and the House Cup, which his older brother says Slytherin has won six years running. I try to convince him that that will change once I become a starting player on the team. He laughs at me.

While he is busy laughing at me, the cauldron bubbles over. The muck that should be inside of it begins to eat away at the table, and we both back off hurriedly.

Snape is suddenly behind us, wand in hand, and he casts a series of spells to stop the corrosion and clean up the mess. He berates us for acting like children and not paying attention to our work, and our class mates snigger behind our backs. We get points deducted from both our houses and our grades, and are sent along to our next classes with a long, condescending stare from the potions master.

---

Luckily, my next class is uneventful. Professor McGonagall shows us how to transfigure a teacup into a candle, but try as I might, my teacup doesn't change. By the end of the class, I only have a slightly melted-looking ceramic cup.

---

Finally, I get a break from classes. Lunch is always just as lonely as breakfast, but at least it's safe. I usually eat quickly, then escape to the library to attempt to study.

Today, however, that changes. As I silently and miserably push my food around my plate (because any appetite I would have has been crushed, thanks to my unfortunate encounter with Snape this morning) two of the chasers sit down across from me.

"Hi!" Alicia says excitedly, breaking me out of my self-pity.

"It's Katie, right?" Angelina asked me.

"Err… yeah," I say. No one has actually spoken to me at meals before, except for that one time when a Hufflepuff asked about a homework assignment.

"Hi, Katie. We just wanted to welcome you to the Gryffindor Quidditch team," Angelina says.

"Err… thanks," I say.

I must look confused or surprised, because Alicia asks, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," I say. Why should they worry about me? They've only just met me.

"Hey, we're you're teammates now. If something is bothering you, you can come to us," Alicia says with a smile more friendly than any I have gotten so far.

"Thanks," I say, and the sentiment is genuine.

I take a bite of my food and chew slowly.

"So are you enjoying Hogwarts?" Angelina asks.

I shake my head and swallow my food. "My roommates are horrible, and that greasy Professor Snape hates me!" I say.

"He hates everyone," Angelina tries to reassure me.

"But he hates me in particular," I insist. I tell them what happened in potions class earlier.

We talk and laugh through the rest of the meal, sharing horrible class stories. I don't have many, but Alicia and Angelina both have a whole years worth, and are willing to share. They make me feel a lot better, and much more welcome than I have before.

At the end of lunch, Alicia says, "Well, we've got class, but we'll meet you here for dinner, okay?"

"Yeah," I say, excited to have… well, not friends, exactly. Not yet. Acquaintances who think my company is worth having.

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My mornings aren't all the same anymore. My routine has been broken by people who care, and the thrill of Quidditch practice, and a genuine longing to learn. Each day, when I wake up, I feel like a new Katie. I spend my free time getting to know my teammates, especially Alicia and Angelina. The three of us get along well, and with each new morning, we come closer to friendship.