Chapter 10: The One With the Montage


I could hear Willow chatting endlessly in my ear as we walked to lunch after class, but I wasn't paying attention. My mind was swirling around Professor Trelawney's prediction for me, trying desperately to grasp just what meaning was hidden behind her words.

Five days time, I chewed on my lip as I thought, What could be happening in five days? And what did she mean by "stoney fate"?

"―osie… ROSIE!" I snapped my head up, looking over at Willow's exasperated face, "Were you even listening?" I shrugged my shoulders, feeling sheepish.

"Sorry," I said, "I'm still thinking about Trelawney's prediction…" I trailed off as Willow groaned beside me, slinging an arm around my shoulders.

"Re-laaaaax," she whined, "That class is such a joke! You saw how barmy she was - complete nutter! Bet she was making all that up, I mean, look at what she said to Belby!" I nodded slightly, remembering. Poor Marcus Belby had been Trelawney's latest 'grim' prediction to date, though after everything I had seen from both the books and the films, I wasn't so sure they were as made up as they seemed; even Ron and Harry's fake predictions had a way of coming true, in the end.

"I suppose…" I responded, then frowned, "What's 'barmy'?" Willow just laughed and steered me towards the table as we entered the Great Hall. Tammy and Max were already there, though Max was involved in a heated argument with another Hufflepuff - though I didn't recognize him as one of the boys from our year.

"―and if you would just practice your bloody backswing, we might be able to clinch the cup this year!" The boy's ears began turning violet.

"My bloody backswing is in perfect order, O'Flaherty!" he argued venomously, "And frankly, if you'd quit bumphing every time someone in the crowd dislikes our plays, we might have a better chance of winning every year." With that, the boy shoved himself off the seat and stormed out of the hall. Willow quickly filled the spot he previously occupied, dragging me down with her.

"You and Rickett in another lover's spat, I take it?" she said as she piled a handful of strange pastries and load after load of roasted potatoes on her plate. Max glowered at her.

"Shut it," she growled, "We were discussing practices - we're starting next week, after tryouts." I perked up at that, staring intensely at Max.

"Quidditch tryouts?" I clarified, watching Willow freeze halfway through chewing from the corner of my eye. Max wasn't nearly as fazed, digging into the food on her plate.

"Yup," she said through a mouthful of some kind of casserole, "Truman graduated last year, so we've got a spot open. Why, thinkin' of tryin' out?" I started to answer.

"NO!" Willow threw her food back onto her plate and clamped a hand over my mouth, "You can't join! Then I'll be the only Hufflepuff in our year who isn't trying out!" I laughed, though it was muffled under her hand. I grabbed her fingers and shoved her hand from my face.

"Just because we try out doesn't guarantee us a spot on the team, ya know," I reminded her. Max snorted.

"Tell that to Smith," she said, nodding in the direction of a skinny blond boy further along the table; looking at him, from his haughty expression to his upturned nose, I knew exactly who it was without even asking, "He thinks, just 'cos he might be descended from Hufflepuff, he rightfully deserves a spot on the team." I scoffed and turned back to the dish of fries in front of me.

Well, that explains how he found his way into this house, I thought as I shoved a few fries - sorry, chips - in my mouth, That and any other house would have killed him by now.

"Isn't Zacharias a first-year, though?" Tammy asked, earning a nod from Max.

"Exactly, he's not even allowed to try out this year, and he still expects to join," Max turned back to me then, "But you could. You any good?" I shrugged.

"I practiced some over the summer, with the Weasleys," I admitted, "and I have my own broom." Max nodded.

"We've got to fill the keeper spot that Truman left open," Tammy spoke, sipping her vegetable stew, "plus it wouldn't hurt to add a few reserves. Try and practice that while you can, yeah? Tryouts are Sunday, in the pitch."

"They would be Saturday, if a certain Gryffindor hadn't booked it for the whole day…" Max mumbled under her breath. The other two just rolled their eyes, and I laughed.

And I've got this to look forward to for the next four years… I smiled at the new friends I had made, watching them joke and laugh as they ate, This is gonna be amazing…


After I finished my lunch, I dropped off some of my things in my dorm and unpacked the rest of my things while the others went to spend time with other friends of theirs. I carefully pulled my Cleansweep Seven out of my bag - careful not to snag any of the twigs - and stood it carefully by the wardrobe beside my bed. Opening the wardrobe, I noticed a few hangers - enough to hang the other sets of my uniform and other robes, with my regular clothes remaining in the trunk - and enough space in the drawer below to store all of my shoes.

Perfect, I thought as I began hanging my robes inside, now I just need to find a place to put my trunk. That proved to be easier said than done; it took some serious squeezing, but after nearly twenty minutes, I finally pushed the trunk inside the wardrobe as well, just underneath my robes. I then set up Frodo's space beside my bed - with him, once again, fast asleep on my bed. I shook my head, Lazy cat...

"Well, at least that's over," I said, wiping the imaginary dust from my hands. I grabbed the sheets of parchment I'd left on my desk, along with my Charms textbook, a few quills and an inkwell, tucking them carefully into my bag. With a quick scratch behind Frodo's ears, I headed back into the common room, picking out a little table below the windows, with a little pot of sunflowers on the corner.

"Time to start practicing." I pulled back out the parchment and quills, setting them aside as I set up the inkwell, along with my notes from Transfiguration earlier; I figured the best practice would also help with revising our lesson, propping the notebook open in my lap as I dipped the quill in the ink a few times until it was dripping.

Maybe that's too much? I thought, remembering the unreadable mess I had written back at the Burrow. I tapped the end on the edge of the little pot, knocking off the excess until it stopped dripping. Satisfied, I put the quill to the parchment and tried to write.

Keyword: tried.

This time, instead of splattering the paper with multiple ink blots, half of my words didn't show up at all. And by half, I mean parts of different letters simply wouldn't write. I only managed half a T, most of an R, a few A's, and one line of an N in "Transfiguration" at the top of the paper. Sighing in frustration, I dipped the quill back into the ink pot harshly, and tried to correct the missing pieces.

"You've got to be kidding me!" I screeched, drawing attention from the rest of the room; in trying to rewrite the words, I somehow had managed to simply smear ink all over the top of the parchment - with no trace of a word in sight. I growled, throwing the quill on the page and splattering ink all over it, as well as the table, the sunflowers, and me.

"Great, just great…" I wiped my hand on my cheek, smearing some of the ink that landed there. Suddenly, I heard a knocking sound. I looked round a bit; some of the people in the common room were also glancing around for the source of the sound, but most of their attention was focused above my head. Confused, I turned around and looked up to see Fred and George staring at me with matching, shit-eating grins plastered on their faces.

What do they want now? I wondered. They gestured to me, then again to the grounds behind them. I shook my head, chuckling a little.

"Alright!" I called to them, holding my hands up in surrender, "Just let me get my stuff together!" I wasn't sure they'd heard me, but they seemed to understand as I shoved my things back in my bag, corking the ink and heading out into the hall again, leaving the quill and ruined parchment behind me. A few minutes later, they wrapped their arms around my shoulders as I walked out the front door.

"'Bout time you showed!" George joked, ruffling my hair, "We were beginning to wonder if you liked your new housemates better than us!"

"But that would be ridiculous, right George?"

"Absolutely, Fred." I rolled my eyes, laughing.

"Oh please," I said, patting both of their cheeks, "I couldn't possibly pick them over my favorite boys!" They lead me over to a tree by the bank of the lake, sitting the three of us down against the trunk. I set down my bag again and pulled out my parchment and quills again.

"Decided not to tie your tie again?" Fred asked. I furrowed my brows, then looked down; I had never tied my tie - it simply hung loosely from my neck. Oops.

"McGonagall's not going to like that," George drawled. I huffed, popping my collar and taking hold of the silky fabric.

"M'surprised she didn't call me out on it earlier," I muttered, attempting to tie the glorified noose, only succeeding to wrinkle the tie and have the lousy knot pull on my hair that was caught inside, "Why do we even wear these stupid things?!" I growled in frustration, practically ripping hair out as I forced the tie over my head and threw it at George, who was laughing.

"You mean you didn't have to wear one back in America?" Fred asked, also laughing.

"No, I didn't!" I said, pulling a hair band from my wrist and twisting my pink curls into a messy bun on the top of my head, "And I don't see the point in wearing one here, either!" I huffed, watching as George wrapped the tie around his own neck and tied it before loosening the knot and removing the tie. He tossed it back to me; I caught it in hand and stared at the knot for a moment before turning to look at him.

"You realize I'm never going to untie this, right?" He laughed. I put the tie around my neck, tightening it just enough to fit right without choking me before lowering my collar once more. I turned back to parchment, using a notebook to bare down on as picked up a quill and tried to write again.

"Why are using so much ink?" Fred asked, watching me dip my quill into the inkwell multiple times. I stopped and stared at the tip of the quill, which was now dripping black ink back into the pot.

"How much am I supposed to use?" I whispered. They laughed at me, taking the quill and parchment from my hands as I sat, frozen in my confusion. They stared at the parchment I had been writing on, holding it up at odd angles as they attempted to decipher my blotted chicken-scratch.

"Wow, and we thought our handwriting was bad," they spoke together. I glared at them and snatched the parchment back from their fingers.

"My handwriting is fine, thank you!" I said, "I just can't write with a quill. I'm trying to get it down well enough that I can take semi-legible notes before Potions class on Wednesday - I don't want Professor Snape calling me out on it." The twins shared a quick glance, before Fred wiped the excess ink off my quill on his robes and handed it back to me.

"Try dipping it only once," he said, helping me dip it in the pot, "Twice if you need it, but no more than that." I watched him for a moment, then carefully wrote something on the page. It wasn't perfect - there were still some spots where the ink dripped, and it didn't dry as quick as I'd hoped - but for once, it was at least a little bit readable.

"Hey, I did it!" I said, smiling at the twins sitting on either side of me. They just shrugged, with matching smug smiles on their faces.

"Well of course you did."

"You had our help, after all." I ignored their comments in favor of writing some more, copying down my notes from earlier much neater than my attempt back in the common room.

"Why are you still writing?" Fred asked, him and George leaning over to block my view of the page, "Breaks are meant to relax, not study!" I rolled my eyes, pushing their heads out of my line of sight.

"It's a wonder I've managed to get anything one with you two around," I muttered, but smiled at them as I put the parchment aside to simply enjoy the sunlight with them.

At this rate, it'll be July again before I get any work done!


After break, I walked back inside with Fred and George to meet up with Willow before heading to Charms class. It wasn't terribly exciting - just a revision over the levitation charm. I was nervous, however, as I hadn't actually had the opportunity to practice the spell - or any other, for that matter - and I had no idea if I'd even be able to do it. Luckily, I wasn't the only one who seemed to be having problems, and Professor Flitwick was exceptionally patient, so I managed to make my book float in the air after only a few tries.

It wasn't until later that night, after dinner, that I remembered my dream from the night before. That, combined with Trelawney's prediction for me, kept me up almost half the night, worrying about Ginny and the Chamber. I can't let Ginny open the Chamber, I thought, turning over on my side, I've got to find a way to get that diary away from her! I won't let what happened in the book take place, not so long as I can do something about it!

That thought stuck with me for the rest of the week, as I tried to think of how to put my plan into action. Of course, it was difficult to juggle my plan and my work once classes really got started.

History of Magic, I realized, would have been a fascinating subject… if it were only taught by anybody else besides Professor Binns. I had known he'd be a ghost, and I'd known he'd be dull, but nothing could have prepared me for the snoozefest that came of his lessons. By the end of it, I was not only surprised I was still awake, but that I had managed to copy down any notes at all.

Maybe I could teach it someday, I thought, and make it easier to stay awake through…

Ancient Runes had been very similar to History of Magic, aside from boring teachers. Professor Babbling was far from boring, though her name was a bit too accurate - she would sometimes go off on rants related to the history and backgrounds of some of the symbols we discussed through the lecture. I was the only Hufflepuff in our year in the course - most of the student were Ravenclaws - but I was seated next to the only Gryffindor in the class, Katie Bell, and worked with her for most of the lesson.

Herbology wasn't too much to brag about, either. With the second years working on the Mandrakes in Greenhouse 3, we mostly worked with Puffapods in Greenhouse 2. It was fairly difficult, though, as the beans produced by the seed pods bloomed whenever coming into contact with a solid object; I learned this the hard way, after accidentally knocking a few into Willow's hair, and earning both her and Professor Sprout's disapproval.

Potions, however, wasn't nearly as bad as I had envisioned - though, that might have been because I wasn't Harry Potter. To start off, Professor Snape had most of the class hand in their summer assignments (of which, I was exempted for not being present when the essay was assigned), before jumping right into brewing the Shrinking Solution. I sat with Max as we brewed, as Tammy and Willow both seemed to completely at a loss for what to do. I worked with the ingredients as best as I could - though, to be honest, it reminded me too much of Chemistry class to risk doing otherwise - and by the end of class, my potion had turned a lime-green color and earning our house 10 points.

And Astronomy wasn't so bad, either… that is, until we had to stay in the Astronomy tower until midnight. We had a lecture early in the day discussing some of the different constellations and their histories, both magical and muggle, but I could barely recall the name of the star in our own solar system after we got out there that night; being outside in that dark, and that cold, made me more homesick for the temperamental Georgian weather than I'd ever thought I'd be.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, had to be worst. We had the class a few days after the second years, though it seemed Lockhart was still a little on edge after the Cornish Pixie incident. Nevertheless, he began the class with a charming smile (a smile, which, I'm ashamed to say, made me swoon a little) and passed out the same quiz he had given to everybody else. I wrote down the answers I remembered being mentioned in Rowling's book, but when I hit a question I didn't recognize, I either doodled a lame picture off to the side or wrote down a somewhat-clever remark.

We began discussing boggarts after that, though he seemed less inclined to actually bringing one in, and instead told us how to get rid of a boggart, as he "detailed immensely in his best-selling book, Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests - which is available for mail-order from Flourish and Blotts for 3 Galleons." One of the Ravenclaw girls in our class - Marietta, I believe - asked what Lockhart's boggart transformed into. He smiled at her, giving a wink as he said, "Myself," though I nearly scoffed out loud as I watched carefully as his eyes flashed briefly with fear as he glanced over at the cage the pixies had once been held in.

And of course, between all of these, I spent most of my evenings out on the grounds with either the twins or Tammy, practicing for Quidditch tryouts. It was mostly just my flying around while they threw golf balls or rocks at me to knock away, but Tammy spent most of the time out there correcting my form and also teaching me the rules of the game (including discussing all 700 types of fouls, in detail).

It wasn't until late Friday, just after dinner, that I really saw a chance to put my plan into action.

I sat with Fred and George at the Gryffindor table, listening to them discuss their own practice coming up with their house team the next day, and inviting me to come watch. I nodded along as I stuffed a forkful of meat and potatoes into my mouth. Through the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of red, and turned slightly to see Ginny on my right sitting by Percy. She looked a little green in the face as she quietly poked at her shepherd's pie and fiddled with a black book on the bench beside her.

The diary! I watched carefully as she pushed her plate away and got up to leave, Percy getting up as well - he mentioned something about Madame Pomfrey - and leading her out the Great Hall. I watched them leave for a moment before looking down at her seat with surprise - she left the diary! I slid over to the side slightly, reaching out a little to grasp the book.

"So, you are going to come watch tomorrow, right?" Fred asked, catching me off-guard. I turned back to him and George swiftly, using my free hand to pull the book behind my back.

"Sure, I'll come," I replied, fingering the leather cover beneath my fingers, "I'll be there right after breakfast." That seemed to satisfy them both, and they turned back to their meal. Moving quickly, I polished off what was left on my plate before hurrying out of the Great Hall, Tom Riddle's diary hidden in the pocket inside my robes.

Mission accomplished.


A/n: Hey everyone! Sorry this took so long, I'm currently on vacation, and got a little distracted! Hope this makes up for it a little bit - and I'll start work on chapter 11 soon! Hope you enjoy!