Even though we didn't get to hold aloft the golden Quidditch trophy, I still felt pride running through my veins as I returned my robes and broomstick. We had played like a real team, I had gotten along with everyone there, and Oliver had believed in my skills and really approved of my performance.
Oliver caught up to me as I was leaving the Quidditch tent and said, "Belle, you have a broomstick at home, right?"
"Sure do," I answered, a grin coming over my face at the recollection of my Cleansweap 8. "A pretty good one, too. I'm really excited to have it on Hogwarts grounds next year."
Oliver grinned too. "Great! And… I know you've probably already got a coach at home, but if you ever want to train some more, feel free to find me." He lightly punched my shoulder and began to walk towards some of his other fifth-year buds that were waiting for him.
I breathed out and watched him go, stunned by the proposal. Oliver Wood was quite the character… and he was really nice, and attractive, too…
Hermione and Ron met me next, their faces red from the effort of running. Ron was the first to blurt out, "That was bloody brilliant, Belle! Harry had said you were a good flier but I had no idea you were that good! Who taught you?"
My smile became slightly nostalgic as I recalled the days where Viktor and I first began my Quidditch education. "My cousin did! We come from a pretty solid Quidditch background."
"I can certainly believe that," giggled Hermione, her face still pink. "You should've seen people's faces when you leapt off your broom to snag the Quaffle—"
"Stunned people right out of their wits, you did," finished Ron with a complacent smile.
The smug little grin on his face made me both laugh and blush. It was jarring to hear such high praise of my flying, especially as it was only my first game, but then again… it could be a good sign for my progress in years to come.
"Are you guys going to go visit Harry now?" I asked next.
Hermione shook her head, seeming rueful. "I don't think so. We were told he wouldn't be awake until this evening, or even after the End-of-the-Year Feast. I believe we're going to change back into our robes now."
Ron said nothing, but nodded assent.
"All right, then," I declared, holding up my hands. "I think I'm going to go check on him. If he happens to be awake, I'll give him your best."
My friends waved and wished me farewell, and then I was alone in walking up to the courtyard, beyond which the hospital wing stood.
It was a beautiful day outside, with not too much sunlight and just the right amount of warmth. I couldn't help but feel, deep in my heart, that Harry would be awake when I walked in the door. The thought made the journey to the hospital wing less scary to me…
"Hey, Skylar."
I blinked and turned around to see none other than Draco Malfoy, sitting on a bench. He offered me a small wave and an even smaller smile before rising from his spot and walking toward me. "Nice flying. It was impressive."
Noting the sincerity in his gaze, I couldn't help but grin. "You really thought so?"
"Yeah, I do. A shame your team didn't win, but you still proved yourself."
It was one thing to hear the congratulations and the comments from my friends, but hearing it from Draco Malfoy was something else entirely. As someone who was more of a respected adversary, he was more of an unbiased opinion.
"Thanks, Malfoy," I said. It was all I could think to tell him, even though his support and encouragement were worth a lot more.
Malfoy exhaled through his nose, almost like a chuckle. After a moment, he glanced down to the cobblestone underneath his feet and sheepishly muttered, "You can call me Draco if you want, you know. I think we've probably reached a first name basis by now."
"All right then. And… likewise. Call me Belle."
He nodded, and there was an awkward silence for a moment. It was he who broke it by shrugging and stammering, "Well, erm—I won't get in your way. I'll see you around, Belle."
And before I could say farewell, he turned on his heels and walked away, hands in his pockets.
I watched him go, curious as to why we were starting to become more friendly than hostile. It was admittedly a nice change, especially considering we had three classes together and were partnered for two, and we would certainly be seeing a lot of each other for the next six years.
Alone again, I proceeded into the hospital wing. When I stepped inside, I saw that Harry was already awake, and speaking with Professor Dumbledore.
It was Harry who saw me first. A great grin appeared on his face, one that I immediately returned. Upon seeing that Harry's attention was divided, our Headmaster turned around.
"Ah! Miss Skylar," he said, a warm twinkle in his eye. "It's good to see you again. I must ask you, however, to provide Harry and I with a few minutes of privacy, for there is something we must discuss."
Although I was incredibly curious over their topic of conversation, I nodded and turned aside, ready to sit outside the hospital wing and wait.
For ten minutes I sat, thinking about the Quidditch game and how excited I was to tell Harry all about it. It was indirectly thanks to him that I had been selected to be the substitute Chaser, and even though we hadn't won the championship, I thought he would like to know everything that had happened.
I also found myself wondering what had occurred between him and Professor Quirrell. He had certainly faced much danger in that dungeon, and I was all but certain that our Headmaster was talking about that confrontation. I was ready to hear the tale from Harry's mouth, now that he had recovered.
"You're free to go inside now, Miss Skylar, if you wish."
I blinked and looked up to see Professor Dumbledore, his kind smile as ever upon his face. He outstretched a hand in my direction and, grateful, I took it. As he helped me to my feet, our Headmaster said, "I must congratulate you on the skill with which you flew this morning."
My mouth dropped open. "You… you were watching?"
"For the entire game, indeed," he replied, the twinkle in his eye now full of pride. "Regrettable, that Gryffindor House was unable to seize the championship, but there is always next year, yes?"
"Next year," I repeated, although my mouth was a bit dry. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that the Headmaster of Hogwarts had watched me play the best sport in the world, and had thought I did a great job of it.
Dumbledore chuckled, pat my hand, and began to walk off.
No longer frozen with shock, I darted into the hospital wing, directly to Harry's side. His smile was still on his face; as soon as I arrived, he exclaimed, "Belle! Are you all right, are you—why are you covered in dirt?"
I laughed with that last and began to tell him about the Quidditch game. His eyes were lit up the whole time; and when I finished the brief tale, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "That's great, Belle, seriously. I'm super happy for you."
"What about you, Harry? How are you feeling? What did Dumbledore want to talk to you about?"
He began to tell me about how Nicholas Flamel and Professor Dumbledore had agreed to destroy the Stone, and of what happened in the dungeon between himself and Professor Quirrell. The pseudo-professor couldn't touch him because of the protection his mother gave him when she died, and that caused Voldemort to flee, terribly weakened again.
Once he was finished, I exhaled slowly, uncertainly. "So you're all right, then? Everything is… well?"
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I think so. I think from here, everything's going to be okay."
At that moment, Madam Pomfrey approached and stated that Harry was free to attend the Feast. We wasted no time in thanking her and returning to the Gryffindor common room, where everyone who was inside offered Harry a hearty welcome. After a brief reunion with our classmates, Harry ran upstairs to change into fresh clothes—and with that, we proceeded to the End-of-the-Year Feast.
When we arrived, we saw the whole Great Hall covered in emerald and silver. Banners of serpents hung from the ceiling, green and silver ribbons were draped from the rafters. The Slytherins were remarkably cheerful, much more so than they'd been throughout the whole rest of the year. Above the High Table, a large tapestry of a snake was raised to celebrate their win of the House Cup for seven years in a row.
Harry and I walked in together; people actually stood up to look at him. He seemed a little unnerved by this, prompting me to take his hand as a gesture of support and reassurance. Over at the Gryffindor table, Hermione and Ron were waving; Harry seemed relieved as we sat down next to them.
As soon as we were seated, Professor Dumbledore stood up, and began the announcements. "Another year gone!" he exclaimed with a smile. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it's been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were… you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts.
"Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor with two hundred and sixty-two points. In third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two. Second is Ravenclaw with four hundred and twenty-six points, and Slytherin is in the lead with four hundred and seventy-two."
The Slytherin table exploded with cheers. Among the flying hats from the far table, Draco, Elizabeth, Crabbe, and Goyle were all celebrating.
Professor Dumbledore seemed amused as he readjusted his glasses balancing loosely upon the bridge of his nose. "Yes, yes, well done Slytherin, well done Slytherin, however! Recent events must be taken into account."
The Great Hall was silenced by this announcement.
"First, to Miss Hermione Granger… for the use of shining intellect when others were in grave peril: I award Gryffindor House fifty points."
Hermione buried her face in her arms as the Gryffindor table burst into cheers—it was entirely possible she had started bawling in joy.
"Second! To Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has seen these many years: I award Gryffindor House fifty points."
Ron's face turned purple as another round of deafening cheers wracked the hall, and with good reason—Gryffindor was now in third place for the House Cup. Over all the commotion, Percy Weasley was shouting, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"
Once the hubbub died down, Dumbledore resumed, his blue eyes bright as he glanced across the room. "Third! To Miss Belle Skylar…"
My mouth dropped open as all the Gryffindors turned to me, excited looks on their faces.
"For the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House fifty points."
An avalanche of arms appeared: all of my friends and classmates were screaming in triumph, congratulating me and thanking me for whatever-it-was I'd done to put Gryffindor in second place for the House Cup. Even though I was rarely startled so badly, for the first time in a while, I was speechless: the points I'd lost a month ago were back.
"Fourth—to Mr. Harry Potter… for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor House sixty points."
This received the loudest sounding cheer yet. I threw my arms around Harry and held him in a tight embrace, one that he quickly reciprocated. I smiled into his mess of thick black hair; despite the shrieking all about us, I still heard Hermione's ecstatic voice cry, "Harry, you did it! You've tied us with Slytherin!"
Everyone who heard her say this began doing quick math and realized she was right. We were tied for the House Cup. Harry pulled away from my embrace, but seeing my grin, threw an arm around my shoulder with a disbelieving laugh.
"And lastly," said Professor Dumbledore, who had apparently not yet finished with his announcements. "There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but even more to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points… to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
A bomb could have exploded, so great was the noise from the Gryffindor table. Neville disappeared entirely under a pile of screaming people—I caught Hermione's eye, grinned, and together we raised our goblets and took long gulps of pumpkin juice. Even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were throwing their hats up towards the grand ceilings, reveling alongside us in the downfall of Slytherin.
When all the bodies were removed from my view, I could see Professor Dumbledore watching over us all with a serene smile. "This means!" He had to scream over all the noise. "We need a little change of decoration!"
He clapped his hands: the emerald green melted into scarlet. The silver became gold, and the serpents on the banners all morphed to roaring lions.
Needless to say, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione by my side, the night of the End-of-the-Year Feast was the best night I'd had yet at Hogwarts.
The remainder of the year was spent relaxing and having fun. Everyone had forgotten about our exams until our results came back; Ron and Harry were pleasantly surprised with what they had achieved, I received top marks in all subjects except the History of Magic, and Hermione of course got the best grades in the year.
Much too soon, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I found ourselves on the train to London and Platform 9¾. Even on the train home we were having a great time playing Exploding Snap, munching on sweets, and simply talking. Before it felt like the train ride had even started, we were pulling into King's Cross Station.
We unloaded our trunks together and walked towards the barrier, with Ron insisting, "You must come and stay this summer—all three of you," as we went. "I'll send you an owl!"
"Thanks," Harry grinned. "I'll need something to look forward to."
With that, we said a temporary farewell to the magical side of the station and passed through the barrier; the first thing we heard was a squeal, and a young girl's voice exclaiming, "There he is, Mum, there he is, look!"
A young girl with flaming red hair and freckles was pointing our direction. It became immediately obvious that this was Ron's younger sister. "Harry Potter! Look, Mum, I see—"
The woman who must've been Mrs. Weasley shushed her and walked towards us. To her right stood Robbie—as soon as I saw him, I released my trunk and ran into his open arms.
"There you are, Belle!" he announced, laughing as he picked me up and spun me around. "I've missed you."
"I've missed you too, Robbie," I replied, although my voice was vaguely muffled due to my face being buried in his shirt.
Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at our exchange. Looking over us, she said, "Busy year?"
"Very," Harry replied. "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley."
"Oh, it was nothing, dear."
Deciding that it would be a good time to get some introductions underway, I gestured to Robbie and announced, "You guys, this is my brother Robbie. Robbie, this is Hermione, Ron, and Harry."
Robbie leaned forward to shake all of their hands, although when he reached Harry, he pompously declared, "Ah! So you're the one I've heard so much about."
I threw my hands up to my face in an attempt to conceal the infernal flush that was filling it, and was unable to stop myself from groaning, "Robbie…"
"What?" he said, with a false sense of innocence. "I have."
Fortunately, I was saved from having to respond by locking eyes with Draco Malfoy, who was standing only a few meters away with his parents and sister. He shot me another small smile and a wave, which I returned—when Lizzie noticed what he was doing, she grabbed his shoulders and turned him away.
Draco looked back and made a show of rolling his eyes.
"Ready, are you?" asked a stern, gruff voice.
A large man with little neck and an enormous mustache frowning down upon Harry. I realized that this must've been the Muggle uncle that Harry had told us about—and standing behind him were his Muggle aunt and cousin. None of the three looked like Harry in the slightest.
"You must be Harry's family!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley with a warm smile.
Harry's uncle didn't seem to like that, because he sneered and muttered, "In a manner of speaking. Hurry up, boy, we haven't got all day."
Harry nodded, and his uncle began to stalk away—but he turned back to us and said, "See you over the summer."
Hermione blinked and stared after the unfriendly man before saying, "Hope you… er… have a good holiday."
"Oh, I will," smirked Harry, a mischievous glint in his eye. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun with Dudley this summer…"
This statement made me giggle, which rewarded me with Harry's grin. Just before he could walk away, I threw my arms around him one more time. "I'll send you letters, Harry, that's a promise. Let me know if you need anything. Robbie and I can get you set up if you need a place to stay or some wizard sweets to eat."
"Thanks, Belle," he responded, returning my embrace. Then he pulled away, shot us one last grin, and followed after his family.
Hermione and Ron soon did the same, after hearty farewells and promises to see each other again as soon as possible; that meant Robbie and I were the last ones remaining. As we watched my friends leave the station, my brother placed a hand on my shoulder and asked, "A good year, overall?"
I grabbed the hand that was atop my shoulder, squeezed it, and said, "A very good year indeed."
In case it wasn't obvious, this is the end of Year One! Which means it's time for another mandatory stopping point in case you're reading this as completed or you've been binging the story! Get yo'self a snack. Take a warm bath. Light a candle. Idk, just take a break of some kind! :)
Thanks again for getting this far. I really appreciate those of you who are reading and enjoying. The story has already gotten a lot more traction than I'd originally anticipated, which is incredible. Like I said before the first chapter, I'm posting the story for myself, but in case anyone's been enjoying... I'm super glad. Like, really glad. Take care of yourselves, and have a great day!
