I woke up in the same chair, but alone. Severus must have gone to bed after I had fallen asleep. I got up slowly and stretched. I looked at my old watch. It had made a mark on my wrist where I had lain on it. It was about 5:30 in the morning. I snuck into the girls' dormitory and changed into some clean robes. Then I tucked my long hawthorn wand into the inner pocket of my robes and crept back out into the common room. I silently opened the door and left the common room. Alone in the corridor, I wandered forward, trying yet again to find my way out. I came across a bathroom at one point and went in to splash cold water on my face. My eyes still felt puffy from crying.
After about half an hour of roaming about aimlessly, I finally came upon the first floor. Hey! I was getting the hang of this! I found the entrance hall and entered the Great Hall. I was the only one there. There weren't even any teachers. I walked down the hall between the four tables. I stopped in front of the Staff Table. Walking around behind the table, I thought how the students must look so small from Dumbledore's point of view. I sat down at the tallest chair, right in the center. It must have been his. I surveyed the Great Hall from my throne, pretending to lord over thousands of students. I smiled cockily at the thought of being the tallest person in the room.
"Finding everything alright?" A deep, cheerful voice from behind me almost caused me to fall off of the chair. I turned in the seat to find Dumbledore standing a few feet away, having just entered from the staff lounge, I guessed. He smiled at me as if greatly amused at my behavior. He stood beaming with his hands behind his back, chuckling quietly.
"I-I…" I was a bit embarrassed to be caught in such an important person's chair. "I was- was pretending to be you?" It came out as a strangled sort of question, rather than an excuse. It was as if I were asking him what he wanted me to say. I made to get up so he could sit down, but he raised a hand and shook his head.
"No, by all means, remain seated, milady. I can't have you go and sit all alone at Slytherin Table; we would both be very lonely!" He pulled out another chair next to me and sat down, looking as if he'd like nothing better than to sit in a different seat. He grinned. "Well, we certainly can't have breakfast without food, now can we?" He clapped his hands and food burst into being before our very eyes. "Well, tuck in, my dear Miss Fawkes!" And without further ado, he tucked in.
I nervously smiled and began to eat, as well. I felt special, somehow, sitting and eating breakfast with the headmaster, at the Staff Table. I felt like a VIP. I was curious, though, as to why he didn't mention my little episode from the night before. I expected him to continue urging me to stay, but I wasn't going to let it get to me.
About half an hour later, footsteps echoed from the entrance hall. I looked up to see Severus trot into the Great Hall. He smiled when he saw me. He ran up to the Staff Table. I smiled as he hopped into the chair net to me.
"What're you doing sitting up here, Sylistia?" He laughed. "You're not a teacher!"
"I-I know." I felt nervous. Dumbledore was ignoring us as he continued to eat his eggs. "I… was just playing." I muttered, embarrassed.
"Looks fun," Severus looked down at his reflection in the plate before him. "Look how tall we are!" He looked over all of the house tables with a sort of haughty expression, chin held high. "I saw that you'd left early, and I went looking." He surreptitiously dragged a piece of bacon off of my plate and began munching it as he spoke. I had a strong urge to laugh, but didn't.
After a while, a Ravenclaw girl walked in, reading a book as she sat down. She glanced up and looked a bit puzzled by the sight of two students at the Staff Table, but then she sat down, grabbed a piece of toast, and continued reading as she ate. I looked over at Severus.
"Maybe we should go sit at our table, before anyone else gets here," I suggested. He nodded, grabbed a cinnamon roll, and jumped down from the chair. We sat down at Slytherin Table as a few more students filtered into the Great Hall. The room gradually brightened and the ceiling glowed as the sun rose higher. A few thunderheads could be seen climbing over the mountains through the high windows of the Hall.
Slughorn came by after nearly everyone was present and told us that all first-years would be given a new mandatory class for the first month or so- broomstick training. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and tried to dwell on less frightening thoughts. I couldn't find any. I watched the second hand on my watch, willing it to stop. I dreaded that first class. How was I supposed to hold on to a flying stick with no wings or engine? I shuddered at the thought.
An hour later, I was trudging across the grounds behind Severus and Lily, toward my certain doom. Out on the field, a small breeze catching my lank hair, I stood stock-still, waiting for the class to begin. The teacher, a slightly older woman with windswept hair, named Madame Hooch, began to pace in between the two rows we had formed, each of us standing to the left of a twisted, old broom.
I trembled on the spot as I anticipated my first magic feat. Then I wondered: what if I can't get off of the ground? What if I'm the only one who can't fly a broomstick? I'd just die! When everyone had arrived and were assembled, Madame Hooch spoke up in a clear, projected voice.
"Everyone have a broomstick? Good." She continued to pace up and down between the rows. "Now first, everyone hold your right hand out over your broomstick, and say 'up'."
Together, everyone did as she had instructed. I held my hand out over my broom, parallel to the ground, imagined pooling all of my magic into my hand, and said as clearly and confidently as I could, "Up!" The broom shot straight up into my hand so fast and hard, it stung. The handle of the broom vibrated in my hand. I gripped it tightly. My knuckles were turning white, but I still held on, trying not to look like I couldn't control it.
Beside me, Severus glared evilly at his broomstick, which twitched on the ground next to him like a twig in a breeze. His continued utterances of "Up. Up. Up! UP!!" grew louder and louder, as his face rapidly reddened. It was the first I'd seen any color in him. As my broom continued attempting to escape, the teacher began to instruct us on the proper way to mount our broomstick. When the teacher wasn't looking, Severus reached down and snatched up his broom, which immediately began twitching. I snickered as I climbed on to my quivering broom. Severus rolled his eyes, but didn't look at me.
The teacher was congratulating Potter on his mount when suddenly, Severus flew backwards, away from his broom. I whipped around to see his broom hovering next to me, having apparently just thrown him off. He jumped onto his feet and marched back towards the broom. He grabbed the handle violently, and it spun around, right into his gut. I winced as he slumped to the ground, arms folded over his stomach. Glaring, he attempted again to mount his broom. Once he was on, however, the broom began to buck relentlessly, lurching and jerking, as Severus held on tighter. A Ravenclaw girl began to laugh loudly, and some other students, mostly Gryffindors, joined in, before Severus finally lost his grip and slid off of his broom, landing heavily on the ground.
Severus stood up hastily, red in the face, and backed away from the group, arms crossed. Lily reached out a consoling hand, but he shook his head nervously, so she shrugged and withdrew. I turned around to see Potter and Black sniggering wickedly and pointing. Then Potter shifted his position on his broom and ran a hand through his messy hair.
"Hey, Snivellus," he said under his breath, so only Severus, Black, and I heard. "I guess the broomstick's trying to send you a message, like even inanimate objects can't stand the sight of you!"
"Shut up, Potter!" I wouldn't have even realized that it was my voice, if Potter hadn't turned and glared at me upon hearing it.
"Excuse me?" He ran a hand through his black hair again.
"Y-you heard me." I tried to sound confident, but it wasn't working. "L-leave him a- alone."
Black turned to Potter and they began to laugh at me. I felt the color in my face rising. "Well," Potter muttered again. "He can't even stay on his broom, and he calls himself a Wizard!"
"Oh," I retorted, quite unable to control myself. "Like you can fly a broom any better."
"Actually, I can, twit." He ran his hand through his hair again, and I wanted to yank it out. "I've been flying since before I could walk!"
"Really?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow. The voice wasn't mine anymore. It was as if some fearless, insane person had entered my body and taken control. I could hardly believe the next words I uttered, much less the casual, indifferent tone I said them in. "Then I'm sure you wouldn't mind proving it?"
"What, you mean… like a race?" Potter asked, seemingly in disbelief.
"Exactly." I gripped my broom and felt the vibrations in the handle as if it were the movement of my own blood flowing through me. "Unless you're not feeling up to it?"
"Oh," Potter said, grinning. "I'm up to it, if you're ready to lose!"
"Fine, but you'll eat those words like you'll eat your heart out, Potter," I felt myself smirk and couldn't believe how utterly calm I was being. "Alright…" I peered around and spied a tree about a hundred meters away. The tree was almost bare, but I saw one spot of color among the naked branches, just inches from the top. I turned to my rival. "Potter, first one to snatch that little purple-red flower from that big tree over there and come back and land without crashing or losing the flower wins."
Potter squinted, then turned to me and nodded. He gripped his broom and picked one foot up off the ground. As Madame Hooch was turned around, preoccupied with a Hufflepuff boy who couldn't get onto his broom, Potter and I jockeyed into position, side by side, facing the distant tree. Sirius Black began to whisper, "On your marks, get set…" He glanced at Hooch, who wasn't looking, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "GO!"
I kicked off, completely unaware of what I was doing. I sped toward the bare tree. I could hear Hooch screaming at us, but I didn't care. This was for Severus. I would avenge his honor. Potter would not, could not, get away with humiliating my only friend. I heard the whistle and knew I was in trouble, but if Potter wouldn't stop, neither would I. Even if I was expelled, I would have taught his cocky ass a lesson.
The tree was about fifty meters away, now. I was halfway there, neck-and-neck with Potter. My heart beat in my chest like a war drum and adrenaline flooded through my veins, freezing me. I was a hundred feet off the ground, and I was traveling faster than most airplanes did. The wind pulled at my face, cold and harsh. I strained to pass Potter, but I remained tied with him. Thirty yards from the tree, I stretched my arm out in front of me as far as I could. When Potter did the same, however, I realized he had a better reach than I did. I cursed myself inwardly for thinking I could make it. I was so stupid! What was I thinking? Then something inside me snapped, perhaps my sanity, because as we approached the tree, I pushed myself to the end of my broomstick, almost tipping it forward, but my slight form made me so light, the broom remained level. I clenched the weathered handle between my thighs, took a deep breath, and released my other hand from the broom. I straightened my back and leaned forward, broomstick tipping down precariously. I tried to look at the bright side, though. If I die, they can't expel me!
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Potter bellowed at me, glancing at me every second. "YOU'LL KILL YOURSELF, YOU IDIOT!" He sounded worried, but I wasn't going to listen to him. He would never beat me. Within forty feet of the tree, Potter flattened himself against the broom and sped up. "GIVE UP! YOU WON'T MAKE IT!" I ignored him, perhaps a stupid decision, but what's the difference between foolishness and courage? Only whether or not you win. The brave can't lose. No way. But the foolish always lose... everything. Thirty.. twenty… ten feet. I thrust myself forward, grasping, not breathing. Potter's fingers brushed mine, but never felt the satiny petals enclosed in my fingers. Then I fell.
The broom, unable to remain level when I lurched forward, nosed over and dove toward the ground, spinning like an electric drill all one hundred and fifty feet down. As the Earth rushed up to greet me, Potter pulled in next to me, also diving. He reached out a hand. "TAKE MY HAND!" he screamed.
"I-I'LL LOSE THE FLOWER!" I yelled back. It was stupid, but I didn't want to lose. Even ninety feet and falling, I wouldn't give up.
"YOU'LL DIE! YOU STUPID FOOL!" Potter looked down. Fifty feet from the ground, he shook his head, realizing that I wasn't giving up. He pulled back, out of the dive, thirty-five feet up. I closed my eyes, waiting for the impact, tensing up, purple-red blossom in hand, and I pulled. I pulled back with everything I had. I opened my eyes, saw the grass falling up, and then it wasn't. I was gliding along, two feet above the ground, toward the class of gaping students. About a yard from the group, I pulled my broom to the side and stopped, a foot from Severus, who stood at the front of the class, awe-struck.
"Th-that was bloody amazing!" He stared at me. I felt cold all over for a second, then I collapsed, gasping and heaving, struggling to breathe. My throat was cold and raw; my lungs felt like they were going to explode. Black spots and white flashes invaded my vision. I coughed and coughed, but couldn't breathe in. Hands were grasping me, pulling me; voices were shouting. Severus's voice reached me across forever. "Sylistia! Sylistia, wake up! Please! Get up!"
"Oh, my God, are you OK?" Potter's voice mingled in the background. "I told you, I told you not to!"
"Stuff it, Potter!" Lily's voice? "I heard you! You didn't have to race her, you agreed. You should have known this would happen! A girl her size can't fly like that without practice and not get sick!"
Sick? Was I sick? I answered myself immediately by coughing into my hand. When I looked, I saw the little flower still in my hand, covered in blood -- my blood. The world spun as someone lifted me off of the ground. Madame Hooch yelled from somewhere above me. "Snape! Run ahead to Madame Pomfrey; tell her there's an emergency!" I heard running footsteps as Severus dashed toward the school, then: "POTTER! You come with me!" Then I felt myself moving, limp in Madame Hooch's arms. As we entered the school, I glanced at Potter, who was white in the face and shaking. I lifted my fist. He nervously held out his hand. I opened my fingers and dropped the bloody flower into James Potter's open palm.
"I win." That was the last thing I said. Then my world turned to night.