As always, there are parts straight from the story, with a little modification. These words belong to JK Rowling. Please don't sue me, I'm not worth much. I edited some of the other chapters and I took out the part about her birthday because I realized a continuity issue. In the beginning of the story it was implied that her birthday was after Halloween, not before. My bad. Please review. Point out mistakes, tell me if you like it or hate it, suggestions for directions to take the story, pairings you'd like to see happen. Thank you!
What I was most excited about after the first few months at Hogwarts was flying lesson. I knew it made me sound snooty, saying I don't really need them, but it's true. At least I wasn't running around bragging like Draco, who continued to whine about not being allowed to play Quidditch as a first year. While I agreed with him in that it royally sucked, I understood that it was for the muggleborn's benefit.
I'd learned a lot about Muggleborns in my time here. I was ashamed to say I didn't have the greatest opinion of them growing up. I was always under the impression that they were uncultured, a little slow, mostly strange. However, spending time with Hermione has taught me that they're just like us, only with a slightly different upbringing. Sort of like Americans.
Finally, the day was here. Draco was being especially obnoxious today. He didn't wear excitement very gracefully, despite Aunt Narcissa's attempts to teach him the subtle art of composure. I felt the way he talked, though. I couldn't wait to get on a broom, and maybe show off a little.
We met the Slytherins out on the pitch. I gave Theo and Draco a wink. "It's on boys."
"Bring it, Lion cub." Theo goaded, using his stupid new nickname for me.
"I hate when you call me that." I complained. The Slytherin boy grin charmingly.
"That's why I use it, crazy cat."
I wrinkled my nose in distaste and moved to stand next to Neville, who had become an ally of sorts. I wouldn't say friend yet but it was further than I ever thought I'd get with the goofy boy. He gave me a nervous smile before our teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."
I stepped up to a broom and grimaced. The Cleansweep looked like it was from the 19th century. "Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'
"UP!" everyone shouted.
I noticed Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, just like the more experienced riders. Hermione's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. I felt bad for the kid, a pureblood who couldn't even command a broom. It was really a crime.
Madam Hooch then showed everyone how to mount our brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting grips. She told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years, as I'd been telling him, which gave me a shameful feeling of righteous smugness. Quidditch was a constant source of opposition, at the same time that it was of bonding for Draco and I. We spent a lot of time riding together but we were constantly bickering over technique and who was the better rider/ player.
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle - three - two -" But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle - twelve feet - twenty feet. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and - WHAM - a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.
I ran after Madam Hooch, who was bending over Neville, her face as white as his. "Broken wrist," she muttered. "Come on, boy - it's all right, up you get.". She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear." Neville, his face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.
No sooner were they out of earshot than Draco burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump?" The other Slytherins joined in.
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy Parkinson, "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."
"Look!" said Draco, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.
Draco smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find - how about - up a tree?"
"Give it here!" Harry yelled.
Draco leapt onto his broomstick and took off. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"
Harry grabbed his broom.
"No!" shouted Hermione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move - you'll get us all into trouble." I couldn't help but agree. It was just a stupid Remembrall, Neville could barely use the thing anyways. There was no sense in risking expulsion over something so trivial.
Harry ignored her. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher. Girls from both houses were screaming and gasping, Weasley whooped, much to Hermione's and my annoyment. Harry turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair, who looked stunned. He'd assumed, as I had, that Harry Potter had no experience on a broom.
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"
"Oh, yeah?" said Draco, trying to sneer but not really pulling it off. Harry leaned forward and shot straight at him. Draco only just got out of the way in time; Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady.
A few people below were clapping.
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.
The same thought seemed to have struck Draco. "Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.
Harry went into a sudden dive, one I wouldn't even try to pull off. He was gathering speed, racing the ball - he stretched out his hand - a foot from the ground, my heart lurched and I needed to do something, anything, but then he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.
"HARRY POTTER!" Professor McGonagall was running toward us. He got to his feet, trembling. "Never - in all my time at Hogwarts -" Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you - might have broken your neck -"
"It wasn't his fault, Professor -"
"Be quiet, Miss Patil"
"But Malfoy -"
"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter, follow me, now." Professor McGonagall led the chagrin, foolish boy into the castle. My heart squeezed. I never even got the chance to get to know him and now he was going to be leaving already.
"Did you see that?!" Exclaimed Dean Thomas.
"That was epic!" Agreed Ronald Weasley.
I rolled my eyes at them and walked over to where the Slytherins were all gathered around Draco as he ran his mouth.
"That was really uncool." I folded my arms across my chest. Draco broke free of the pack and scoffed at me.
"Uncool? What are we, five?" His cronies laughed.
"Seriously. You could have gotten expelled. How would Mother and Father have felt about that?"
"First of all, they're my parents, not yours. And second, they would never let this dumb school expel me, they practically own it." He spit at me. I recoiled at the venom in his voice. I knew he was probably caught up in the adrenaline of the experience and trying to save face in front of his friends. It's never a good idea to confront Draco Malfoy in front of his friends, I knew better. But it still stung. He never played the parent card on me, not even when I was all-out nasty to him in front of his friends. I tried to tell myself something else must be bothering him and he was just taking it out on me because I made myself an easy target. But telling myself that didn't ease the pain of his words any.
"They're my family too." I said tonelessly.
"Elizabeth, you know I didn't mean it like that." He scratched his elbow uncomfortably.
"I know, Draco. Just try to stay out of trouble." I moved to join the rest of my House as they made their way back to the Castle. Hermione came to my side wordlessly and I appreciated the silent show of support. The day I had anticipated most turned out to be a complete dud. Longbottom got hurt, Harry might be getting expelled, Draco and I had a nasty row, and worst of all I never even got to fly. What a lame day.
Later that day, at dinner, Harry was back. A smile broke out on Neville's, Hermione's and my faces at the sight of him. We rushed up with everyone else to figure out what happened, how he managed to get out of being expelled.
"She made me seeker." Harry had explained, sounding modest but proud. I sat in disbelief. Draco would have a cow. I was a little jealous myself, especially because it seemed more than a little unfair, I could only imagine how my cousin would react to the news.
Almost as if physically manifested from my thoughts, Draco was suddenly standing over our table with Crabbe and Goyle. "Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly.
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Draco. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only - no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"
Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up, and then looked at me. "Elizabeth," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."
"Draco!" I called as he turned away. I jumped up to join him as he continued to leave the hall. "What was that about?" I asked when I finally caught up to him.
"What are you afraid of," he drawled, feigning casualness, "hurting the precious boy-who-lived? Or everyone thinking you're still one of us?"
The truth? Both. Neither. I didn't know. "You actually want me as your second?"
"Oh I chose you for a reason, Elizabeth." He said smugly. Apprehension dawned.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I suppose you'll find out at midnight tonight." He didn't wait for a response, spinning on his heel in a fashion similar to our godfather.
I didn't have a good feeling about this duel tonight. However, when I said as much, Weasley just called me a chicken and said I wasn't a skilled enough wizard to take him on. They were equally unreceptive to Hermione's objections, though she thought to try one more time before we all headed out, following me down the stairs to wait in the common room for the boys when it was nearly time.
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." She spoke up, startling the two boys as they came down their steps.
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"
"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy - he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."
"Come on," Harry said to Ron, ignoring Hermione. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.
Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She followed Ron through the portrait hole, hissing at them like an angry goose. "Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."
"Go away."
"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so -" But what they were, we didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower. "Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.
"That's your problem," said Weasley. "We've got to go, we're going to be late." We hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when Hermione caught up with us.
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"You are not."
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."
"You've got some nerve -" said Ron loudly.
"Shut up, both of you!" said Harry sharply. "I heard something." I heard it too, it was a sort of snuffling.
"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.
"Neville?" I called out quietly. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as we crept nearer.
"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." Weasley scolded.
"How's your arm?" said Harry.
"Fine," said Neville, showing us. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."
"Good - well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later -"
"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."
Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville. "If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you." Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned us all forward.
We flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. We sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoed toward the trophy room.
Draco wasn't there yet. I was starting to get a feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. We edged along the walls, keeping our eyes on the doors at either end of the room.
Harry took out his wand but I didn't draw mine. I didn't think I'd be needing it. The minutes crept by.
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered. Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when we heard someone speak -and it wasn't Draco.
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. I looked over sharply as Harry waved madly at the four of us to follow him as quickly as possible; we scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice.
Neville's robes had barely whipped around the corner when they heard Filch enter the trophy room. "They're in here somewhere," we heard him mutter, "probably hiding."
"This way!" Harry mouthed and, petrified, we began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. We could hear Filch getting nearer.
Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run -he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor. The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.
"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the five of us sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following - we swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, Harry in the lead, without any idea where we were or where we were going - we ripped through a tapestry and found ourselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near our Charms classroom, which we knew was miles from the trophy room.
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.
"I - told -you," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "I - told - you."
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off." Hermione confirmed what I had suspected from the beginning but had unreasonably tried to deny. He set me up too. Specifically. I don't even know who the real target was, Harry or me. Had I really pissed him off that much on the pitch?
"Let's go." Harry said in answer. It wasn't going to be that simple.
We hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of us. It was Peeves. He caught sight of us and gave a squeal of delight.
"Shut up, Peeves - please - you'll get us thrown out." Harry pleaded.
Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut, tut, tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."
"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."
"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."
"Get out of the way," snapped Weasley, taking a swipe at Peeves. This was a big mistake.
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"
Ducking under Peeves, we ran for our lives, right to the end of the corridor where we slammed into a door - and it was locked.
"This is it!" Weasley moaned, as we pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"
We could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeves's shouts.
"Oh, move over," Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry's wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, 'Alohomora!" The lock clicked and the door swung open - we piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed our ears against it, listening.
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me." "Say 'please."' "Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice. "All right -please."
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And we heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. I took a deep breath in relief and turned around to lean against the door then the breath caught in my throat. "I think we'll be okay - get off, Neville! What?" Harry turned around - and saw what we had all noticed before him.
We were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching and quivering in their direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at us, and then it started to growl.
Suddenly we fell backward - Harry slammed the door shut, and we ran, we almost flew, back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for us somewhere else, because we didn't see him anywhere, but we hardly cared - all we wanted to do was put as much space as possible between us and that monster. We didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.
"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at our bathrobes hanging off our shoulders and our flushed, sweaty faces.
"Never mind that - pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. We scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs. It was a while before any of us said anything. I was stuck in my own head, thinking about Draco and his betrayal, that monster in the third floor corridor, and the near expulsion we barely avoided, the second one in a matter of days for Harry.
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Weasley finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."
Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?" To be honest, I couldn't say I did. I was busy shifting eye contact between its six sets to notice much else.
"The floor?" Harry suggested.
"I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads." Weasley echoed my thoughts.
"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." She stood up, glaring at us, though mostly the two boys. "I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed - or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed. Let's go, Elizabeth."
I followed her dutifully, my feet trudging along miserably. I knew everyone was concerned about the monster and whatever it was guarding but I really couldn't care less. Professor Dumbledore had his secrets for a reason. If there was anything I learned from living with the Malfoys it was don't stick my nose in places it didn't belong.
What was weighing heavily on my mind, and making sleep elude me, was my cousin. He had just declared war and I planned to retaliate.