Author's Notes – Hiya, my fave chap … hope you enjoy! Thanks for the reviews, they make my day!

Disclaimers – No infringement intended.

Chapter 13 – Flying high

'Wing-ad-ri-yum Le-vi-oh-sa!'

'It's Win-gaaardi-yum, Cornelia!'

'Oh, damn … sorry, Mia … Wingardium Leviosssah ……… ARRGH! … I–just-can't-get-this-stupid-thing!'

'Of course, you can do it! Don't be silly … just concentrate. And while your at it, try to have some conviction in yourself.'

'Conviction in myself, yeah right!'

'Come on, Cornelia!'

'MIA!'

'Just focus on the feather … concentrate … have faith in yourself … and say– '

'Mi-aaa!'

'Hang on a minute there, Alex … I'm busy …'

'Oh, just pass me your Transfiguration notes, for heaven's sakes … I can't understand a word I've scribbled in here …'

'You would have, if you were paying attention when Professor McGonagall was teaching instead of analysing precisely how cute Joshua Lang was and trying to trace his dreadlocks on the parchment!'

'I was paying attention … or at least, trying to … but he was just so damn cute … Transfiguration is just not my subject … anyways, the notes, please.'

'Transfiguration notes … gosh, where are they … umm, here … right, Cornelia where was I?'

'You were saying something about concentrating - listen, just forget it, Mia … it's no use … I accept it - I'm terrible.'

'Of course, you're not … '

'Any luck yet, Corny?'

'Alex, two words. Shut. Up.'

'Sorry, Professor Bridger.'

'Alexannah!'

'Oookay, I'll mind my own business.'

'Alexannah's right, Mia, I'm no good … I've been trying all evening and I'm still pathetic.'

'Look, just because I can do all this already, doesn't mean you'll be able to as well. Besides, everyone has their own strengths and weakness.'

'Look who's talking … you're perfect in everything. Let me spell it out for you – P-E-R-F-E-C-T, perfect.'

'Except in chess. She's pathetic at it. Totally.'

'Umm, right, okay. Maybe except in chess.'

'Forget about me … I'm not saying you guys are not trying hard enough … you just don't have faith in yourself. Just believe in yourself and try hard … and things will work out … eventually.'

'Like that'll do any good.'

'Oh, you'll be surprised when you find out, Alex.'

'Well, I'll just wait till that "eventually" arrives.'

'Alex, you're not exactly helping here, did you know?'

'Hrmph.'

'Whatever you say, Mia … but this is so the last time…'

'Just calm down … focus on the feather … concentrate … believe in yourself … and say the incantation. It's simple.'

'(deep breath) Win-gaar-di-yum Le-vi-oh-sa! … oh, I can't look!'

'Cornelia, you can open your eyes now, you know.'

'Omigosh! … C-Cornelia, I can't believe you … you did it!'

'What did I tell you?'

'I did it? I did it?! I DID IT!! … oh, Mia … I can't … ahh!'

It was a blustery Wednesday evening and Alexannah, Mia and Cornelia were all comfortably seated in the snug Gryffindor common room. For the past two hours, Alexannah had been hurriedly scribbling away half a dozen or so essays that she had so carelessly put off all week, yelling out frantically in between either to check some ambiguous fact or to borrow someone else's notes since hers were too illegible. Cornelia had been jabbing her wand wildly in mid-air, trying to Levitate the accursed feather with very pitiable results, while Mia had been languidly flicking through a thick, leather-bound, seventh year Transfiguration reference book she had borrowed from the Hogwarts library earlier that day for the lack of anything to do. At the same time, she had also been trying to teach Cornelia how precisely to Levitate her feather, but Cornelia just had no faith in herself.

Now, however the scene was rather different; Cornelia was dancing across the room, shrieking happily, much to the annoyance of the other Gryffindors who were all trying to get some last minute work done. Alexannah was staring with her mouth open in an 'O' of shocked surprise and blinking dumbly while Mia was grinning broadly, exceedingly amused by both Cornelia's overenthusiastic reaction and Alexannah unutterable disbelief. The petite blonde had spent the entire evening and the week before attempting to convince Cornelia that she had no aptitude for Charms and that she might as well give up; so Cornelia's abrupt accomplishment had come as a bit of a shock to her. Mia, on the other hand, had no doubts that Cornelia would succeed … as she put it - "eventually". She clapped her hand on a dumbfounded Alexannah's back and rolled her eyes.

'Come on, Alex,' she said laughing, while Cornelia still pranced across the room in sheer delight. 'Get over it … your mouth is still open.'

Alexannah snapped her mouth shut brusquely. 'How did she just …' she whispered in wonderment. 'I mean, she'd been trying all evening. Not to mention, the entire last week!'

'Like I said, relax, believe in yourself and you'll succeed eventually,' Mia returned coolly. 'Perhaps if you try, you'd have better luck with Transfiguration.'

'Nah, I'm no good.' Alexannah said resignedly, finally taking her eyes off a now-jigging Cornelia and returning back to her unfinished Astronomy essay on Jupiter's many moons.

'That's just what Cornelia said when she started,' Mia pointed out encouragingly, giving her one last heartening pat on the back and returning to her seat.

Alexannah looked up hopefully, but Mia was already immersed in the book, her chin resting on her hand as her eyes darted across so fast, they appeared to be a green blur. Cornelia came back; sighing as the happy spell wore off and sat down jadedly next to a somewhat discomfited Alexannah.

The first two weeks of the term had drawn to a close in a blink of an eye and Hogwarts was getting more homely to the first-years by the day. The trio had finally learnt to find their way around the castle unaided, though they were still very much wary of the trick stairs, blank walls, wrong turns and most of all, Peeves the havoc-wreaking poltergeist, whom they had already (and rather unfortunately) run into twice. Alexannah seemed to find him a tad more annoying than the other two, probably owing to the fact that he had stuck a huge wad of strawberry flavoured chewing gum in her hair just before Potions class and Slughorn had innocently questioned her as to whether sticking wads of gum in one's hair was a new fashion amongst youngsters these days.

Nearly Headless Nick was, though very helpful, rather irritatingly pompous at times, pretentiously narrating incessant anecdotes of his adventurous exploits in the past and his heroic feuds with the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin Ghost, half of which they found hard to accept as true, since they had never seen Nick and the Baron together at any point of time. The Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff ghost, had taken an unfathomable liking to Cornelia and on those rare occasions when he met her in the corridors, he kept insisting, much to her bewilderment, that she looked very much like his great granddaughter's niece, Ophelia Smithers.

Classes, with the probable omission of History of Magic, were also more appealing now that the fundamentals had been drilled into their largely curious heads. History of Magic was taught by the oh-so-boring Professor Binns who put Alexannah to sleep the minute he began lecturing about what he considered to be dreadfully exciting and bloody wizarding wars in his droning voice. Mia spent the period by reading borrowed library books, taking random notes or doodling on the parchment while Cornelia had developed a certain fondness for playing hangman with Cindy Miller, a fellow Gryffindor, to pass time. Somehow, History of Magic was Mia's favourite subject after Transfiguration … she apparently found reading history very interesting, much to Alexannah's and Cornelia's bewilderment.

Mia had no particular fondness towards Herbology, which was taught in the greenhouses by Professor Sprout, a kind, dumpy, untidy, little witch, probably because she found it comparatively easy and fairly boring. Cornelia, and Alexannah in particular, begged to differ and kept persisting that there was nothing lacklustre about replanting potted Fluke flowers or copying complicated diagrams of Gas brow plants and Venus dragon traps. They were, almost always, treated to a pair of rolling, emerald eyes in return to their defensive assertions.

Professor Slughorn, the walrus-like, large bellied Potions Professor, had indisputably befuddled them all by walking around the room during their first class and inquiring about everyone's ancestry. A balding, corpulent man whose classes were held in the arctic dungeons, he occasionally stopped at a student and chatted amicably with him for a while if he discovered that their parent or relatives were influential or well-established in the wizarding world while treating others as a part of the wall. He seemed to recognized Alexannah's mother ('Ah! Alexia Truman, is it? My dear child, certainly, I know her … brilliant Potioneer … subtle and sharp-minded, Ravenclaw wasn't she? I take that she has of late been promoted to Head Healer at St. Mungos? Yes, indeed…' he had bustled when Alexannah had bashfully introduced herself.)

Mia was not in the least impressed by his cold indifference to Muggle-borns, rather she was contemptuous of his apathetic nature. Given that Gryffindors had Potions with the Slytherins and since Mia hadn't the faintest inkling as to which her parents were, she had tried to make herself scarce by shifting into the shadows, which admittedly, offered a poor hiding place and so Slughorn had fixed his inquisitive eyes on her in the end.

'And you are?' he asked, observing her greedily as though summing her up, though largely different from the genial way Professor Dumbledore had nights before.

'Mia Bridger,' she murmured quietly, wishing fervently that he wouldn't question her further. However, the minute she uttered her name, Slughorn stared at her with a flicker of deepest interest and curiosity.

'Mia Bridger, is it?' he repeated, smiling and eyeing her more pryingly than ever. 'Ah! I see, what Leto meant … green eyes … auburn hair … you do look a lot like Minerva when she was younger (Mia blinked in exasperation; she wished people would stop pointing out her resemblance to her Transfiguration Professor; it was exasperating) … you're a Metamorphmagus, are you not, m'girl?'

There were audible gasps from the class; everyone was staring at her, apparently intrigued by the sudden revelation. Mia nodded, slightly curious as to how he had found out this particular bit of information. Professor Slughorn observed her closely once more; smiled and moved down the line. Mia had an uneasy feeling that he was going to get back to her after a while.

Her queasy feeling proved to be rather accurate – Slughorn had kept hovering around her table, like a vulture round a fresh carcass during the entire lesson, and at regular intervals, kept pointing out to the much annoyed class, the perfect way in which she had crushed her snake fangs or stewed her horned slugs. It was only near the end of the class that he finally pronounced Mia's potion as flawless and, much to Mia's relief, left the table.

'What was that?' Mia muttered in an undertone to Cornelia, who was busy coolly adding porcupine quills to her boil-curing potion.

'Dunno,' Cornelia shrugged, completely unperturbed, in the maddening way only she could be. 'Guess he just likes you … maybe he heard about your Transfiguration yesterday.'

'Great!' Mia mumbled incoherently as Professor Slughorn ambled around the class fatuously and scrutinized everyone's Potions with a critical eye, stopping at two other students, including Alexannah, to assert that their potion was faultless. Alexannah seemed absolutely delighted at the fact that she was excellent at something.

After class, as Mia had been stuffing her parchment, potion- ingredients and inkwell into her bag, ignoring the fact that it was bursting to the seams, Slughorn had cornered her, clearing his throat vociferously to indicate his monumental presence. Mia looked up, unsurprised.

'Yes, Professor?' she queried evenly.

He studied her for another fraction of a second and then said in a low voice, fitting for a spy under a death threat, 'Is it true what you said about your parents?'

Mia was taken aback, but only momentarily; she steadied herself and replied in a somewhat steely voice, 'I guess if I yelled it aloud in the Great Hall; I has to be.' And without so much as a second glance, she walked out of the dungeons carrying with her an air of affronted dignity.

That however, had not been the last time he had squared her to ask her some discrete detail about her heritage. The next day, he had followed her all the way to the library and cornered her there. He was, it seemed, rather pleased with the brash manner in which she had answered him yesterday and he insisted he had only come to apologize if he had upset her in any way. He had continued to say that he was very thrilled with her prowess in Potions and was inviting her to "a little meeting of the elite" he called the Slug club. He had further told her that he had invited her dear friend "Miss Truman" as well.

Mia was decidedly baffled by his seemingly mad predilections and further more by the entirely ridiculous name he had chosen for his 'gang of the elite'. She had retorted back to him yesterday – it was the last thing she had been expecting preferential treatment for, even if she was brilliant at Potions. She had considered blatantly refusing his offer, but had decided against it, thinking it would be very uncouth. Consequently, she just maintained that she would attend if she could, but she wasn't making any promises. The Potions Professor was just about to add something persuasive, when, much to Mia's reprieve, Professor McGonagall had passed that way, her eyebrows raised, asking him if anything was amiss. Slughorn had hastily assured her that everything was fine and left, but not before shouting back, 'Monday, after class.'

Mia had watched sordidly as his bulging frame had disappeared into the shadows and sighed irately. She had glanced at Professor McGonagall and their emerald green eyes met for a fleeting second before Mia looked away.

'Slug club?' Professor McGonagall had asked her, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.

'Yes,' Mia had replied, a bit surprised that McGonagall knew. Then, before she could stop herself, she had added, 'I really don't want to go, but he seems rather persistent.'

Professor McGonagall had said nothing, but continued to eye her interestedly. Mia wished people would stop doing that; it was beginning to get to her.

'What did you tell him?' she had asked the young first year finally.

'I told him that I'll come if I can, but I promised nothing,' Mia had responded irritably. 'He seems rather interested in me … won't stop asking me about who my parents are … but he treats other students like they're part of the wall … I mean, I know I should probably respect him since he is a teacher … but in all honesty, I have no intention of going on Monday.'

Suddenly, she had marvelled at the supreme courage her irritation had blown into her and had wondered whether, on ordinary occasions, she would have dared to say as much to her Head of House.

'Wise,' the older of the two had observed shortly, a trace of amusement lingering in her voice.

Mia had sighed again and bidden Professor McGonagall farewell as she sauntered musingly into the library.

Defence against Dark Arts was taught by Helio Chandler, a Professor with scraggly brown hair and a scarred face, who had about the memory of a goldfish and a most foreboding habit of thundering instructions out for the world to hear. The way he conducted class largely depended on his disposition; if he was in a foul temper, he would growl instructions menacingly and yell hysterically at even the most insignificant of mistakes; if he was in good humour, he was rather patient and awarded House points for the simplest of achievements; but if he was in a slightly unconventional mood, he would just ask them to use minor jinxes and hexes on each other, which usually landed half the class in the hospital wing. Everyone couldn't help but be intimidated by his presence.

Astronomy, up in the Astronomy tower, was taught by the beautiful Professor Celesta, a delicate blonde with startlingly grey eyes. It was taught every Wednesday night but since Astronomy required its learners to screw their eyes through telescopes and gaze at the stars and the nether planets, no one noticed her very much.

Professor Flitwick, who taught Charms and was the head of Ravenclaw as well, was a rather good teacher; patient, kind and willing to help anyone. But his peculiarly squeaky voice and miniscule size was the subject of scores of jokes and rumours among the students. Charms was, by far, Cornelia's worst subject; she only managed to keep up with the class by asking Mia to repeat and explain whatever Professor Flitwick had said, later on.

Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, Deputy Headmistress as well as Transfiguration teacher. Right since day one, she had earned herself a reputation of being rather stern, austere and reserved, nonetheless extremely fair and soon became infamous for giving vast amounts of homework, which was usually greeted by uptight groans from the students. But no one could deny that she was a brilliant teacher all the same. The second years and other older students considered her to be "a smashing teacher … though really strict" and "what we could only dream of after Professor Reed" giving the first years a distinct feeling that the preceding professor had been horrible. Cornelia and Mia both loved the subject (though Mia was well above the basics) whereas Alexannah gloomily insisted that Transfiguration was "just not her forte".

Hagrid had invited Mia over to his wooden cabin on the first weekend of the term; an invitation which Mia had generously accepted and looked forward to. On Saturday afternoon, Mia had found herself seated in the gamekeeper's company, sipping on a cup of tea though she politely declined his offer of rock cakes, which looked much to hard to be eaten by a normal person. They had spent the next hour chatting pleasantly about this and that and Mia had taken a liking to him at once; he was clearly not as vicious as he looked. Hagrid had liberally invited her to his hut anytime she wanted and she had promised she would bring Cornelia and Alexannah along the next time she visited.

Mia had developed a most queer tendency of doodling on the parchment as she took down notes in class and Alexannah who almost always borrowed her written observations, thus had full advantage of the extremely amusing and sometimes farcical caricatures. Her Transfiguration notes were littered with brilliantly accurate impressions of McGonagall's trademark bun; History of Magic with comical little goblins duelling with absurdly shaped swords; Herbology with a most entertaining compilation of Mia's self-invented plants, sometimes crosses between several common ones, like the 'daffytrapcumbers'– a droll creation which had borrowed aspects from the Venus Dragontrap, Cucumbers and Sprout's honking daffodils so that the end result looked something like a cucumber-horned gramophone. However, the most hilarious of this collection was definitely Mia's travesty of the unfortunate Slughorn, where she had drawn his head with the body of a particularly greedy slug or walrus, the upshot of which had Alexannah splitting her sides or hours.

Mia had, as she had previously decided, not attended the first Slug Club meeting for two reasons – first, she had not wanted to hurt Cornelia's feelings and second, because she wasn't looking forward to any VIP treatment anyway. Alexannah however, in spite of Mia's repeated coaxing, had attended the meeting and had loftily pronounced it as extremely enjoyable and pleasant – when Slughorn had not been droning epics on the many celebrated wizards he had had the pleasure of teaching. Mia, on the other hand, felt she was only saying this to make her envious.

Thus, the first two weeks following their arrival at Hogwarts had been rather uneventful with the possible exclusion of Mia's great Transfiguration feat on their second day there. The Gryffindors (and some of the more decent Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs) had apologized handsomely to her that evening for their unnecessary interrogation in the Great Hall but Mia had simply shrugged and said that it was only obvious that they should ask and that she should not have lost her temper like that at any rate.

However, the fact that a first year could actually do a spell that even NEWT level students found easier said than done, had spread throughout the school like wildfire, and much to Mia's annoyance, people kept whispering, staring and pointing at her shamelessly in the corridors between classes and some even had the pluck to as her if she could do it again, the result of which was that Mia rarely attended classes as herself anymore, disguising herself in the most ordinary possible manner in a desperate attempt to evade the brash gossip mongers.

Most of the teachers, especially Professor Slughorn, also seemed rather intrigued by this, with the exception of Professor McGonagall who was indifferent to the detail and treated all the students alike; Gryffindor or otherwise; skilled or not. Mia had the distinct impression that even if a student was her own son or daughter, she wouldn't have treated him or her any different.

On the other hand, her Transfiguration exploit, with the exception of the Slytherins, who detested Gryffindors on principle, had been solitarily despised by a resentful Rivers Phoenix, who seemed to be labouring under the opinion that every minute not spent glowering at Mia was a minute wasted. At the end of one DADA class, when Mia had, as was custom, been the first to jinx her opponent, Rivers had, in a fit of indignation, commenced on an extremely exaggerated tirade about how she thought that Mia was a pure-blood maniac, ignoring all of Cornelia's attempts to inject some common sense into the monologue. Finally bored stiff of the unfair accusations Rivers had foisted upon her; Mia had remarked with an indifferent air, 'If I was a pure-blood maniac, Phoenix, I'd hardly have a Muggle-born as my best friend.' Which had the obvious effect of the bespectacled Ravenclaw shutting up instantly, her dark face dour and brooding.

The consequence of these two highly unpleasant encounters with Rivers was that the two rarely crossed paths if they could help it, their hostility rivalling that between Mia and Umbridge, addressing each other only by their surnames when forced to deal with each other. Mia found all of Rivers' boisterous attempts to outdo her in class somewhat ridiculous albeit entertaining; she was making a positive nuisance of herself in all lessons much to the vexation of the professors who did not in the least seem amused by her ceaseless attempts to draw their attention in class. Comical absurdity reached its pinnacle when Rivers had almost choked purple during lunch hour, one day, trying to prove, in vain, to an uninterested crowd of Ravenclaws that she could do non-verbal spells, something that Mia had not yet attempted to master.

Flying lessons were scheduled the next day, Thursday, as was specified on the notice board in the Gryffindor common room, and much to the Gryffindors' dismay, they had flying lessons with the Slytherins.

'Great!' Alexannah mumbled dejectedly as Michael Alcott, a fellow first year, read the notice out aloud for public benefit. She slapped the table indignantly and scared the living daylights out of Cornelia, who, having just succeeding in levitating the feather, had been peacefully scribbling down Charms notes while humming a Muggle tune under her breath. 'Just what I wanted … flying in front of dear little Dolly Dolores Umbridge. As if being stuck with them in Transfiguration and Potions isn't enough.'

Cornelia put down her quill and giggled girlishly at Alexannah's ludicrous nickname for the nasty Slytherin.

'Still,' Mia said brightly, casually flinging aside the book she had been reading to join in their chinwag. 'You can't have everything in life … ever been on a broom before?'

'Yeah, couple of times,' Alexannah responded unenthusiastically, slumping in her chair. 'Alexandra plays Quidditch for Beauxbatons … and Dad used to play too, so I guess I used to … tag along.'

'Cornelia?'

'Of course, not,' Cornelia replied archly, as though Mia was being perfectly ridiculous. 'You expect me to zoom around the Muggle countryside on a broom? But Christopher plays really well … he's Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.'

'Oi, Mia! Heyy, Cornelia … Alex, why so glum?' Charlie Whitman's jovial voice cut through their less-than-cheerful tête-à-tête. He ran his hand carelessly through his wavy, brown hair to keep it off his face and walked up to them, sitting down on the couch next to Mia's. The second year had struck up an aberrantly great friendship with Mia and subsequently, with her two best friends.

'Flying lessons with Slytherins,' Alexannah stated gloomily, scrunching a piece of blank parchment aggressively to vent out her dismalness over the news. 'And I was so looking forward to flying!'

Charlie shook his head and his silky hair flopped back onto his face again. He shoved it back indifferently, looking amused. 'Gryffindors are usually paired with Slytherins for flying lessons … don't ask me why. But, trust me, it's not that bad … Madam Hooch can handle them.'

'It's not the Slytherins that are bothering her, it's Umbridge,' Mia said, grinning at Alexannah's fallen face. 'Anyways-,' she added, swivelling the chair suddenly to face him, '-what's a Chaser … I remember reading about it somewhere, but I can't exactly recollect.'

'Chaser?' Charlie asked her disbelievingly, as though she was trying to be funny. He sat upright and clasped his hands in a characteristic gesture. 'You're telling me you don't know?'

'Uh uh,' Mia replied, shaking her head, a bit amused by his reception. 'I've read about it before though …'

'Well, Chasers are Quidditch player,' Charlie explained patiently, having eyed her dubiously for a minute or so, just to ensure she wasn't pulling his leg. 'The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try to score by passing the Quaffle through the opponent team's hoops.'

'Quaffle? Hoops?' Mia repeated blankly, blinking in confusion. 'I am not exactly familiar with Quidditch terms, you know.'

'No kidding,' Alexannah said cheerily, her gloom over the flying lessons forgotten. 'And here I was, I thinking you knew everything.'

Mia made a face and punched Alexannah in the shoulder good-naturedly. 'Nah, I really don't know … I am kind of looking forward to flying, though. Now, could someone please explain?'

Charlie and Alexannah obligingly spent the next half an hour explaining to Mia the rules of Quidditch, it's players, balls, scoring, Quidditch at Hogwarts and Quidditch fervour in England – both of them were seemingly aficionados of the game - while Mia listened intently, an eyebrow arched and a lock of auburn hair dangling over her inquisitive face, asking a few questions here and there. Charlie had even consented to draw a rough sketch of the Quidditch field and the players, which, as Mia had taken the trouble to point out after his long-suffering explanation, looked oddly like a bunch of lollipops.

'Well, that's about it,' Charlie said, when they had finally stopped laughing over Mia's jibe about the sketch. He lifted his hand to cover his mouth as he yawned. 'I'm going to try for Chaser this year … hope I make it,' he added wistfully.

'Why didn't you try last year?' Mia queried as he sat up and stretched unabashedly.

'First years aren't allowed in the house teams,' he replied, looking around to find the common room deserted except for the three of them. The dying embers crackled feebly, then, the flame extinguished itself and left the room pitch black, bringing hopes of further midnight discussions to an abrupt end. 'And now' – he yawned again – 'I think we ought to get some sleep.'

Mia shrugged in concord, seeing no point in staying up in an unlit common room. Charlie sauntered off towards the boys' dormitory waving them a cheery goodnight while they headed off to the girls'.

--

The cool morning breeze greeted the Gryffindors as they made their way out of the Entrance Hall for their flying lessons the following day. It was sunny and bright outside and the beads of dew on the lush, green grass glistened like thousands of miniscule diamonds in the sunshine. By the time the Gryffindors had reached the pitch, twenty broomsticks were already there as were the Slytherins, looking annoyingly smug as usual, though some were eyeing their broomsticks in mild apprehension. Alexannah fidgeted nervously with her thumbs and stared blankly into the open sky and the blazing sun above.

'Lovely day, isn't it?' Mia commented optimistically, trying to get both Alexannah and Cornelia's minds off flying.

'Umm.'

'Come on,' she persisted, trying to catch Alexannah's eye. 'You're not worried, are you?'

'Umm.'

'Oh, just stop umm-ing for heaven's sake,' Mia snapped finally, exasperated by her vexing behaviour. 'Why are you so worried? You've already been on a broom before … and besides, it's not like it's important how well you fly.'

Alexannah shot Mia an anxious glance and was about to open her mouth to say something when Madam Hooch, their flying instructor, burst into the pitch. A wiry woman, she had short, black hair and fierce, yellowish eyes reminiscent of a hawk.

'Well, what are you waiting for?' she barked stridently at the anticipating throng of first-years. 'Get beside a broomstick, everyone.'

There was a general shuffling and scuffling as the Gryffindors and Slytherins hastened to obey and stood beside a broomstick each.

'Now,' Madam Hooch ordered commandingly, once the shuffling had died down. Everyone looked up at her expectantly. 'Stick your hand above the broomstick and say 'UP'!'

Mia eyed her broomstick in trepidation for a minute; then, she stuck her hand to her right and said in a loud, clear voice, 'UP!'

The broomstick rose immediately upward and Mia caught it in her hand tightly, contented; looking around, she realised that hers was one of the few that had. The only other person standing with a broomstick in her hand was a tall, scrawny Slytherin girl with jet-black hair whom Mia instantly recognized from the Sorting as Eileen Prince. The girl stared at Mia for a minute and then unexpectedly, half-smiled. Mia returned the smile and then, turned to see how the other Gryffindors were progressing; Cornelia' s broomstick simply rolled on the ground when she yelled 'UP!', Alexannah's rose halfway into mid-air and then fell back, as though it had changed it's mind and Russell Pritchard, a fellow Gryffindor, wasn't any more successful; he was trying to lift the broomstick with his hands each time Madam Hooch was out of sight. The Slytherins were, if not worse, no better. Umbridge, Mia was delighted to see, had hardly been able to make her broom budge at all.

'UP!' Alexannah yelled defiantly, stamping her foot down in frustration and the broomstick zoomed into her grasp at long last; she turned, caught Mia's eye and heaved a sigh of obvious relief.

Ten minutes later, when almost everyone, or at least a majority, had managed to persuade their rather reluctant broomsticks to get off the ground (Russell and Dolores were still struggling), Madam Hooch issued fresh directions. She asked them to mount their brooms, demonstrating knowingly how it was to be done on her own broom first (which looked to Mia as though it belonged to the Stone Age) and then walked around brashly pointing out everyone's mistakes and correcting them.

'When I blow the whistle,' she ordered the half-hesitant, half-elated crowd of first years, 'you will kick off the ground, and keeping your broom steady, rise a few feet – I REPEAT – just a few feet - and then come back down, understand?'

Mia nodded at no one in particular, taking a deep breath at the same time. The whistle was blown and the next half an hour for her was sheer ecstasy.

--

'That,' Mia breathed, shutting her eyes, her cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of fuchsia, that Umbridge, with all her 'pinkness' would have died for, 'was, by far, the best class we've had so far at Hogwarts.' She opened her eyes; they were positively twinkling with delight as she smiled broadly.

'Totally,' Alexannah agreed, cocking her head to one side and then, she laughed in derisive amusement. 'This is the first time I've seen you so excited,' she said mockingly.

'What do you expect?' Mia replied, still smiling dreamily. 'I mean, that was pure, sheer magic. It was like freedom you've never experienced … a rush of fierce elation … it was incredible!'

'Someone's becoming poetic,' Alexannah commented roguishly, earning herself a friendly punch in the arm from Mia. 'Just be glad Madam Hooch didn't catch you skimming the ground, or you would have had it for sure.'

Mia shrugged, unflustered and responded in her usual calm voice, 'I would've liked to go higher too … but she would've caught me for sure then … bet, it'd be cool.'

Alexannah raised an eyebrow tentatively. 'You should try for the Gryffindor Quidditch team next year … if that was your first time on a broom, it was very impressive, what say, Cornelia?'

'It was … umm, it was okay,' the brunette replied quietly, averting their excited gazes.

'Don't lie,' Mia, who was hardly fooled by appearances, rebutted immediately, rolling her eyes. 'You didn't enjoy that one bit, did you?'

'No,' she confessed, staring fixedly at the grassy floor. 'I suppose not. I think I prefer my feet on the ground, thank you.'

'Doesn't matter,' Alexannah said reassuringly, putting her arm across a dejected Cornelia's shoulders. 'I guess flying suits some, but doesn't appeal to the rest.'

'Hmm, in any case,' Mia added, her eyes knitted as she suddenly broke into a run and beckoned Alexannah and Cornelia to do the same. 'We're late for class. Very late.'

'Merlin!' Alexannah gasped, sprinting behind her and breathing heavily. 'And we have Transfiguration next.'

'McGonagall is so not going to be pleased,' Cornelia mumbled grimly, as she scurried forward to catch up with her panting friends.

--

As November arrived, the weather turned miserably cold and the temperature in the castle had dropped so low that quite a few students wore thick, protective gloves made of dragon skin to protect their exposed hands from the frosty air. The mountains around Hogwarts had turned a foreboding, icy shade of grey and the lake was chilled solid. Hogwarts had become more of a home to the first years than ever, as classes went on, detentions were handed out to the pranksters and house points awarded and taken.

Steaming morning breakfasts had never been more welcome, though were frequently punctuated by heart-wrenching news in the Daily Prophet which was, almost every day littered with gory details and minutiae of horrific Dark murders and Demetor attacks. The reports were often received by agonized shrieks from the readers and it was not uncommon to witness students dissolving into tears in the Great Hall because someone amongst their close kith and kin had been victimized as the result of the latest round of Dark attacks. Mia, almost always, found herself a helpless onlooker to their ineffable anguish, as Dumbledore and their respective Head of House would attempt to console their devastated charges with pointless and almost always unheard words of comfort.

October had drawn to a close amidst raging winds, unrelenting rains and the largely unsolicited, gruesome news. Halloween had come and gone and the Great Hall had been spectacularly decorated on the occasion. Thousands of live bats fluttered from the walls and ceilings while no less than that swooped over the House tables, making the candles in the creepy-looking pumpkins stutter precariously. The feast had been laid on golden plates and the food had been predictably delicious and appetizing with a variety of new dishes served. Mia had, as promised, introduced Cornelia and Alexannah to Hagrid and the trio had visited his small, wooden cabin, at least thrice by the end of the month, so that they soon became regular visitors at his log cabin.

Slughorn had cornered Mia days after she had skived off his Slug Club meeting and had treated her to a very long, unpleasant, fifteen-minute sermon about how congenial the gathering had been and how much (here he had scooped up a smug Alexannah, seemingly out of thin air) Miss Truman had enjoyed herself. Then, he had cordially, much to Mia's annoyance, extended his invitation for a next Slug Club meeting before ambling off towards the staff table.

And as October faded, November brought up a much-anticipated event which everyone, especially Muggle-born first years had been looking forward to – the Quidditch season had finally begun.

Charlie had, much to his delight, made it to the team; he had arrived dancing into the common room one evening, startling Mia to no end by his atypical display of giddy happiness.

'Charlie, are you … okay?' Mia asked him hesitantly, an eyebrow raised, seriously concerned for his sanity as he continued to jig cheerfully in the common room, attracting curious stares from the fellow Gryffindors who were glad for the two-minute respite from the drudgery of pending homework.

'I made it! I made it to the team!' he declared happily and she rolled her eyes, returning to her Potions essay, though not before yelling out a truly genuine congratulations.

Ryan Reynolds, his best friend was the only other second-year to have made it to the team, though as a Beater. Charlie flew with miraculous ease and his aim at the hoops were usually made with great precision. Surprisingly though, the Gryffindors were not at all looking forward to their first match against Hufflepuff.

'We're gonna lose,' Christopher Hale mumbled despondently, at breakfast, two days before the match; his scruffy brown hair obstructing the solemn expression on his face as he sipped on his flagon of pumpkin juice. 'I just know it.'

'Why so pessimistic?' Mia asked curiously, craning her neck across a groggy Cindy Miller's shoulder to look at him. 'If you ask me, you've by far got the best Chasers, Beaters and Keeper.' She had become an ardent Quidditch enthusiast, usually watched the Gryffindor team practicing whenever she could spare the time and was on good terms with almost everyone in the team. Having seen some truly spectacular Quidditch practices, she was very sanguine about Gryffindors' chances of winning.

'You're probably right,' Ryan Reynolds, Charlie's best friend and Beater on the team admitted grudgingly. 'But,' he added to Mia in an undertone, shooting oddly furtive glances around him, 'we've got a pathetic Seeker.'

Mia grimaced inwardly and shot Ryan an apologetic glance. Eliza Arden just happened to be the worst Seeker she had ever seen. Her flying was nauseatingly bad and she was about as blind as a bat. By what she had heard, Seekers were the most important players on the team, so having an awful Seeker usually meant defeat for the players. And to top it all, Eliza Arden was Captain of the team.

'How can someone so pathetically bad even make it to the team, forget about being Captain?' Mia hissed in frustration at no one in particular.

Riley Reynolds, Ryan's very pretty older sister and fellow Beater laughed harshly. Twirling her flaxen hair absently, she replied archly, 'Mia, ever heard of family preference? She's Reed's niece … that's how … deplorable, isn't it?'

'I so totally agree, Riles,' Chelsea Bennett, Keeper for Gryffindor muttered dejectedly, leaning forward to face Mia. 'At least, we got rid of Reed …'

'Rid of Reed!' Ryan chortled, fleetingly disregarding Quidditch dilemmas as turned to a sombre Charlie. 'That would make a superb pun, what say, Charl-O?'

'Why don't you just tell McGonagall?' Alexannah suggested fervently, ignoring Ryan and reverting the discussion back to a review of possibilities. 'She'll throw her off the team at once! You know she will, she's all for fairness!'

'We did,' Charlie said, sighing deeply and glowering at his untouched mash with a severity that implied that each individual potato had been responsible for Eliza's undeserved appointment as Seeker. 'But she can't do that for two reasons – one, because traditionally, Quidditch Captains remain captains until the end of their seventh year and second, because we only told her last week and she can't go around hunting for a new Seeker a week before the match. If we would've told her earlier, perhaps…' He shot an ugly look at Adrian, who also played Chaser.

'What're looking at me for?' Adrian demanded angrily. 'It's not my fault that stink-bag of a Reed put her niece on the team. Don't know how such goofballs landed in Gryffindor in the first place. The Sorting Hat's made some serious misjudgements.' He slammed his empty goblet violently on the table, ignoring the gaping dent on the table.

'Relax,' Christopher murmured to a very irritable Adrian, without any real conviction as he swished his wand to mend the dented desk. 'You don't have to vent out your anger on "the Seeker" by yelling at each other, you know.'

'Yeah,' Mia approved quietly, emptying the last dregs of her pumpkins juice with distaste. 'Guess you'll just be stuck with her for the rest of the year…'

'Good guess,' Riley said dryly, looking disconsolate as the first bell of the day rang, signalling the end of breakfast and the beginning of another dreaded weekday.

--

The day of the Quidditch match dawned breezy and clear. The week before had been crammed with a good deal of scoffing and jeering between the houses and an unusual air of antagonism had settled like a thick mist between the generally friendly Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors, all thanks to the oncoming match, though a knowledgeable Christopher lightly insisted that it was nothing compared to the heckling and catcalling that took place at the onset of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin matches. Feelings of 'house patriotism' as Ryan so cheekily put it, were running high and judging by the sudden stony silences between Professors McGonagall and Kettleburn, Mia silently wondered if her normally unpartisan Transfiguration professor and Head of House actually cared a lot whether or not Gryffindor won the oncoming match.

Back to today, the sun shone vibrantly on the stands as the ear-splitting cheers of the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors filled the air; Gryffindor alight with scarlet and golden posters, scarves and rosettes and Hufflepuff with yellow and black. Cindy Miller's life-like painting of the Gryffindor lion stood out prominently against the sea of scarlet and gold and the cheering and excited squeals grew louder second by second until Roxanne Stanton, a Ravenclaw fifth-year began pulled over the enchanted megaphone and commentating in her loud, lilting voice.

'AND WELCOME TO THE FIRST QUIDDITCH MATCH OF THE SEASON – GRYFFINDOR vs. HUFFLEPUFF!' her cheery voice boomed across the stands as the audience erupted into a roar of applause and cheering.

'And the players are out – Madam Hooch is issuing last minute instructions – Captains Eliza Arden and Martin Tubbs are shaking hands – the whistle is blown – Quaffle is released and –THEY'RE OFF!'

'Wow! This is amazing!' Cornelia squealed shrilly to Mia, who had only just arrived, having gone to wish the team good luck and reassure a very edgy Charlie before the game. She stuck her head between the shrieking crowd as the players zoomed across the pitch, scarlet and yellow blurs; Hagrid was waving breezily at them from the teachers stand; Cornelia waved back but Mia and Alexannah with eyes only for the maroon Quaffle and golden, winged Snitch.

'And Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle – newcomer Whitman passes to Adrian Anderson – Anderson to Christopher Hale – Hale back to Whitman and – OUCH! – Whitman narrowly misses a Bludger by Hufflepuff Beater Sarah Lance – AND WHITMAN OF GRYFFINDOR SCORES!'

'YES!!' Mia, Cornelia and Alexannah chorused zealously, punching their fists into the air along with their fellow housemates. 'GO CHARLIE!'

'Game resumes – Snitch still nowhere in sight - Quaffle back with Gryffindor again – this time with Anderson – ducks a Bludger – passes to Hale – Hale to Whitman – Whitman passes back to Hale and – HE SCORES – ONCE MORE FOR GRYFFINDOR!!'

'Yeah! Gryffindor rules!' Alexannah cried happily, pulling out her scarf and waving it patriotically as Mia and Cornelia exchanged delighted high fives.

'Now Hufflepuff in possession of Quaffle – Jessica Kane to Wayne Crawford and back and – HUFFLEPUFF – NO! – An excellent block by Gryffindor Keeper Chelsea Bennett and the game continues…'

'Close shave,' Cornelia murmured as Mia squinted fervently around the pitch for any sign of the Snitch. Eliza was idly circling the grounds, hardly making an effort to look for the tiny, winged ball that could surely bring them the much-wanted victory.

'Quaffle once more with Gryffindor Chaser Hale – passes to Anderson – AND HE SCORES – WHAT A SHOT – Gryffindor's Chasers are miraculous! Whitman is most certainly a brilliant find!'

The Gryffindors' roars in reception to Roxanne's comments were almost deafening.

'And, once more, Hufflepuff in possession – Crawford passes to Jonathan Archer who passes to Kane and back to Archer and looks like he's going to score… OUCH! … Archer takes a Bludger to the head by triumphant Gryffindor beater Riley Reynolds – looks painful - and the Quaffle is back with Gryffindor…'

The game continued for a elongated period in a analogous manner; Gryffindor taking admirable shots, one after another, missing a few when the Quaffle was sent flying back to them by the frantic Hufflepuff Keeper. The Chasers narrowly avoided Bludgers aimed at them by the frenetic Hufflepuff Beaters and Ryan and Riley did their level best to keep the Bludgers from injuring their teammates. Chelsea made exceptional saves till the score was 180 – 20 and the Snitch was no where in sight, when –

'Alex, it's the Snitch!' Mia hissed vehemently, dragging Alexannah and Cornelia and discreetly pointing to the fluttering, golden ball somewhere near the foot of Hufflepuffs' hoops.

'By Jove, so it is!' Cornelia breathed hypnotically, looking up at the whizzing players to see if anyone else had spotted it yet.

'No one else has seen it yet,' Alexannah muttered in a low voice, her eyes fixedly trailing the movements of the tiny Snitch. 'I've been searching for ages, how did you find it?'

'Dunno,' Mia shrugged noncommittally as the Snitch flitted by an unwary Wayne's ankles. 'I thought I spotted it once before near Ryan, but then I thought I was imagining things.'

'Mia, Alex, look!' Cornelia squealed feverishly, shoving them to the left in a frenzied passion. 'I think Rhonda's seen it!'

Roxanne's anxious voice confirmed Cornelia's assertions as she cried in breathless anticipation, '-AND HUFFLEPUFF SEEKER RHONDA KEYNES DIVES – LOOKS LIKE THE SNITCH HAS BEEN SPOTTED – SHE'S GOT IT – SHE'S GOT IT – SHE'S – YES! – HUFFLEPUFF GETS THE SNITCH – BUT GRYFFINDOR STILL WINS THANKS TO THE SPECTACULAR CHASERS!! FINAL SCORE – HUNDRED AND EIGHTY TO HUNDRED AND SIXTY; GRYFFINDOR WINS!!'

'WE WON!' Alexannah shrieked raucously, hugging Cindy and Cornelia at the same time, so tightly that they both turned at nasty shade of sea green before Mia, who was still giddy with happiness, forced her to release them. The Gryffindors were either cheering or applauding or prancing around in mad delight; Charlie, Adrian and Christopher were exchanging high fives on the pitch, Riley and Ryan were doing loop-the-loops unabashedly until Ryan landed down and hugged an euphoric Charlie, Chelsea was skimming the ground jubilantly, her jet black hair flapping madly behind her, yelling happily and Eliza was shaking hands with a dejected looking Martin again. Professor Kettleburn was shaking a thrilled Professor McGonagall's hand (she did not look half as intimidating as she usually did, Mia noted, grinning) quite genuinely and was praising the Gryffindors' splendid performance while Professor Slughorn was staring wide-eyed at the pitch, as students swarmed to congratulate the players.

'You were brilliant!' Mia exclaimed, as Charlie hugged her as well in delight, almost swooping her off her feet and then, released her suddenly as he realised how awkward it was, grinning abashedly. Christopher walked over, positively beaming and whistling a merry tune. He ruffled his younger sister's hair gleefully.

'Guess we were!' Charlie replied, flushed with pride, excitement and happiness, as Mia congratulated the rest of the ecstatic Gryffindor team, other than Eliza, who had gathered around her to see what she had to say about their more-than-well-played match.

'Mind blowing!' Alexannah pronounced, her arm around Mia's shoulder as she looked up in amazement. 'That was some game you guys played! Great saves, Chels!'

'Gee, thanks, Alex,' Chelsea replied diffidently, laughing as she pulled back her wind-blown hair into a neater ponytail.

'Uh-huh,' Adrian nodded in merry agreement, clapping his hand on Charlie's back playfully. 'You were great, Charles, did I mention?'

'Don't call me Charles, it's Charlie … and yeah, maybe only a hundred times,' Charlie returned, rolling his eyes modestly, though Mia could tell he was rather pleased with Adrian's commendation.

'You know, that's all nice and dandy, but it would still do well if Eliza was a better player,' Christopher muttered tensely in a hoarse undertone. The mood changed suddenly from jubilance to an air suited for military officers discussing war strategy.

'You're right …' Ryan, who had only just arrived from god-knows-where, approved, frowning slightly.

'Of course, he is,' Riley pronounced in her customary regal style. Chelsea shrugged in agreement. 'I mean, if Rhonda had caught the Snitch earlier … it was only luck … we wouldn't have stood a chance, then …'

'PARTY IN THE COMMON ROOM!' A delighted Russell Pritchard stuck his head from amidst the cheering throng of Gryffindors and yelled out loudly, interrupting their uptight discussion. 'COME ON … YOU GUYS ARE SERIOUSLY WANTED THERE …'

'Oh, hell, we've just won a match,' Alexannah asserted matter-of-factly, straightening her blonde hair. 'We ought to be celebrating … you can worry about Quidditch tactics before the next match, can't you, Riles?'

'You said it, Alex … couldn't agree more,' Ryan said cheerily, dragging his heatedly protesting sister and an irate Chelsea Bennett along with him as he joined the crowd of brightly clad students. 'C'mon, Charl-O, Mia, Cornelia … let's party!'

'Yeah, come on,' Adrian agreed, shaking his head good-humouredly at Ryan's oh-so-Ryanish behaviour, beckoning the rest of them to follow the enthralled second year's lead. 'He's right … we'll save it for the next match … shall we?'

A/N: 'Lo again! If you like this, please, please, please drop in a line with your view … love you if you do … love you more if you leave in more than one line ….

Thanks!