Well…another chapter! I still feel bad about the whole two-month-with-no-updates thing, so I'm giving you another long chapter and begging for forgiveness! I love you all…very, very much.

As always, reviews are great.

DISCLAIMER

Ayana: I see you've updated.

Me: And?

Ayana: You still don't own Harry Potter.

Holly

Chapter Thirteen – Blue Skies?

Mostly everyone decided that, in November, I was strange. As if they hadn't already figured it out. But their reasoning was that I liked to spend my free time outside in the dusty frost, awaiting full-on snow. Sometimes we already had a few inches by this time at home. What gives?

Many a time one of the guys on the team, or even Mandy or Lisa, dragged me inside and sat me by the fire, calling me a loon and telling me not to die on them. I got used to it after a while, but I still loved snow, ice, and anything cold.

Mandy and Lisa found themselves on edge and irritable because all the boys talked about of late was Quidditch. The first match of the season wasn't even our own – Gryffindor verses Slytherin. Roger still wanted us all at the match for two reasons: one being to observe the competition, and the other being to harass the obnoxious Slytherins.

I found Harry wandering one free period at the end of my day, and he had no one around him. Since that was the case, I decided to say hi. This was, of course, my only family connected to my dad as far as I knew.

I ducked behind a hanging tapestry like a tigress awaiting her prey. I gigged at that idea. I mean, hey, tigresses are orange. My hair is orange. I'd be such a tigress. Remind me to practice roaring, will you?

I jumped on Harry as he passed, praying he had the upper body strength to support my smallish body. Sadly, though, he didn't. He ended up with his face to the floor and I sat on his back.

"Ow! What do you want?" he groaned, pushing me off of him.

"Hi!" I grinned.

He stared at me. "Please don't tell me that's it."

"Well, if I didn't tell you what you asked me not to tell you, I would be lying by omission, which is a sin. I don't like to sin; I'm Christian, you know," I giggled, patting him on the shoulder.

"That's…great," he said quietly. "Anything else you want while you have me pinned to the floor?"

I nodded. "I know this sounds really creepy and all, but I want to know about you as told by you. Like, I don't want to hear any rumors or exaggerations or lies or anything like that. I want to know the Life and Times of Harry Potter as told by the Boy-Who-Lived."

He blushed lightly. "You're nuts."

"I know," I countered. "But please? I'll tell you anything you want to know about me if we can just…hang out."

"Well," he paused, "I guess it couldn't hurt."

"Of course not!" I smiled. "I don't bite…I'm a little prone to hit things with large sticks, though."

"What...you know, I don't wanna know," he shook his head. "So what do you want to do?"

I stood up and offered him a hand, which he took. "I think roaming around the grounds until we get caught by Filch is a nice idea. You don't mind the chilliness too much, do you?"

"That sounds alright," he shrugged.

Harry and I walked around the castle grounds and talked about nonsense as the sun crossed the sky. His life seemed fairly tragic to me, living in a closet with his horrid aunt and uncle that, sadly, shared my blood. He also has a fat and obnoxious cousin, whom I was reassured wasn't me, and that living with him is a bad idea.

"So what's America like?" he asked lightly.

I grinned. "I'm from Fitchburg. I live with my adopted parents; their names are Cynthia and Mark. My old last name was Gray. I have a bedroom, thank God. It's minty green and very…nature-y. I play hockey, and that's where most of my friends come from. I don't think any of them are best friends, really, though," I sighed.

He looked up at the setting sun. "Why?"

"Because they're not very…faithful. One day they're clinging to me and being really nice and all, but the next day, they're threatening to beat me over the head with a hockey stick," I paused, sitting on a bench in the courtyard. "Mandy and Lisa and the Quidditch team are different. They're not quite as ruthless or backstabbing. But, hey, compared to your life, mine is great."

Harry laughed. "True."

"We should go in. There's a cat over there, and I think I know who it is," I smiled and dragged Harry back inside.

"What did you mean before? When you compared my life to yours?" Harry asked suddenly as I continued to follow him around.

A little smile formed on my lips. "Well, I like to think that there's always someone who has it worse than you. That makes it easier to understand suffering and flat out giving to other people. But I also know that there's always someone better than you and there's something that could be improved in everything. That keeps you humble. It's petty philosophy, ignore me."

"No," Harry shook his head. "I think you're right."

I stopped. "I've never had someone say I was right about that before. I actually don't publicize that theory too much."

Harry grinned. "It's good to know that some people actually care about the other human beings…and other species…around them."

I didn't know how to respond to that. Could it be that one of the few people to understand my thoughts on life was this random boy from an entirely different country that somehow turned out as my kin?

Now alone, I wandered back to the common room in the dark of the castle. I wished that I had some form of protection, something to make me invisible, so I didn't have to continuously look over my shoulder. I quietly tiptoed up to the door to the common room.

"Look you," I whispered. "I know I need a riddle, but say it quietly. I don't want to get caught, and I'm tired."

The golden bird nodded. "If you are so focused on speaking, answer this: What is broken every time it's spoken?"

I paused. "Well…is it a pro – no. The answer is silence."

"That it is, Miss Evans." With that, the door opened. I went inside and closed the door hastily.

I came face-to-face with Roger, perched on an armchair. He noticed me in the doorway, and fell to the floor.

"Roger…what are you doing?" I asked, slightly irritated. That tends to happen when I get tired.

"Er…knitting," he offered.

"Really?" I narrowed my eyes. "I don't see any needles or yarn."

"That's because…I'm finger knitting and I lost my piece of yarn under the chair!" he grinned at me and shoved his hand beneath the chair. Sure enough, he pulled out yarn. Odd.

"Uh…huh. Why were you knitting?" I sat on a table in front of the chair.

Roger sat back in the chair. "Well," he began, "Grant says I'm too high-strung and it might calm me down."

That actually sounded reasonable. We all knew that Roger could be compared to a jackrabbit on uppers. He sighed, setting the yarn aside.

"Yeah. I don't know how to knit, finger or otherwise," he grinned sheepishly.

I shrugged. "Me either. Maybe Grant knows?"

Roger laughed. "Don't you know how strange that sounds?"

I smiled. "What, guys can't knit?"

"They can, I suppose, but it's certainly odd!"

Penelope Clearwater came downstairs again. "Do you two ever sleep?" She groaned, agitated. She pulled on her white tank top, fixing how it fell over her.

"Together? No, not yet," Roger grinned cockily. I giggled, kicking him in the shin.

Penelope sighed. "You know what? Go to bed whenever you like. It's your own problem now. Just be quiet about it!" She turned on her slipper-clad heel and stomped back up the stairs to her bed.

Roger and I stared after her. We both had the same blank expression.

"Wanna do something with this yarn?" He grinned, poking my ribcage.

I looked at him. "As in? Such as?"

"I was hoping you'd have an idea," he muttered. "You're a Ravenclaw! You're supposed to be intelligent!"

"If I'm the Ravenclaw, what are you?" I countered.

"I'm the lost Kansas girl!" he shouted.

"Will you two shut up?" An angry voice yelled from upstairs.

Roger looked at me. "Annoying the prefects is the only entertainment we have."

"That's kind of pitiful," I snorted.

"I know," he sighed. "We need better things to do. We should campaign for an arcade in the school."

I shook my head. "Then we'd be the only ones continuing to get good marks."

Roger shrugged. "So what? Why do you actually care what other people do with themselves? Worry about Holly, Holly."

I sighed and leaned on Roger. Did I really focus too much on other people and forget myself? I didn't think so. I pursed my lips. I decided that my problem wasn't being over compassionate; it was over analyzing.

"Whatever," I muttered. "What time is it?"

Roger looked to the grandfather clock in the corner. "About one in the morning. Are you tired?"

"Kind of. How'd it get so late? I left Harry just after sunset," I wriggled myself under his arm.

"You were with Harry?" he asked, curious.

I nodded. "Yeah, I thought family bonding was a good idea."

"And was it?"

I shrugged. "We basically rattled off our autobiographies. It wasn't that interesting, but I decided that I don't really want to meet my dad's side of the family."

"You don't mean that," Roger said, patting my shoulder.

"I do," I groaned. "They sound like paranoid nutcases that lost out on both looks and brains."

Roger didn't say anything for a moment. Then, "Well, you can't choose your family."

At that point, I noticed that Roger smelled very nice. It was a flurry of clover, broom polish, and something else that I could only describe as warm and fuzzy.

"Hey, make me something, okay?" I nudged my way out from under him.

"What?" he asked as his head snapped up.

"You know…knit me something," I grinned. He might as well have a motive to finger knit.

He sighed, and then grinned. "Oh. Are you going to bed?"

"Nah, I'm going to chase unicorns in Alaska," I groaned. "Yes, I'm going to bed. You can, too, I guess. But you can also knit. I'm not controlling your life here." I turned and pranced up that stairs, not really feeling tired.

"Night Roger," I added.

I could hear a small smile in his voice when he said, "Sleep well, Holly."

The next morning, I was in the library with Duncan and Jason. The two wanted to instruct – which I later learned meant scare – me on being a Seeker.

"You can totally die," Duncan said in a hushed tone. I sat across from the two of them at a table in the far corner. Though I had begged to be far, far away from the restricted section, I didn't win that battle. I wanted to be nowhere near that diary…my grandmother's diary.

"And that happens how?" I narrowed my eyes. It was just a sport…you can't die. Right?

"Same as any of your American frou-frou sports," he continued.

"But more magical," Jason added.

I stared at them. "How is death magical?"

"You could get shoved off your broom by a rival player or hit in the head by a bludger," Jason shrugged.

"Concussions are fun," Duncan grinned. "I've had one."

"That explains worlds," I sighed. "Look, don't you have homework or something?"

"Don't you?" they countered.

I scoffed. "No."

"Same," Jason smiled. "So we get to bother you all day."

"Oh, lucky Holly," I muttered. "Maybe I should go find a nice Slytherin…"

"Slytherins aren't nice!" Duncan shouted. He immediately mouthed an apology to Madame Prince.

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, you guys demonize them too much. Pansy's…okay."

"Didn't she insult you?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, but I'm one of those crazies that believes in second chances. I think everyone makes mistakes and deserves to try again. It's called forgiveness."

"And Slytherins tend to be backstabbers. Just warning you," Duncan said quietly.

"So what?" I wrinkled my nose. "I want to talk to her. Maybe at the match?"

Duncan stood, patting my shoulder. "You can if you want. We're always good shoulders to cry on."

"Yeah," Jason agreed. "We have nice shoulders. They're comfy and manly and sexy…"

"You're all a bunch of pigs," I sighed. "I'm leaving."

I hated being alone in the hallways. I always felt antsy with so many people around me, taking away the clean air and suffocating me. I didn't know why having someone with me would help, but it just did, I guess. Not to mention I was a little afraid of being jumped.

"Holly!" a voice called. I turned. It was that Ernie boy from my potions class. I didn't bother smiling for him, but I tried not to look too miserable.

"Holly," he huffed – he'd been running. "Hi."

"Hi. You're out of breath? Were you actually looking for me?" I smiled a little.

He nodded. "I wanted to know if you were going to the match later."

"Oh. Yeah, of course. Roger thinks it's a good idea to study the other teams' strategies."

"Of course, you're on the team. I forgot." He shoved his hands in his pockets. I hated it when people did that, as if hiding their hands behind a layer of fabric could somehow protect them.

"Yeah, it's still new to me too…where are you going now?" I tried my hardest to make conversation with him. This felt painfully one-sided, even if he was the one to initiate it.

He grinned. "Nowhere. Why?"

"I don't know. I'm bored and you're here. You've just walked into a possible nightmare or lawsuit," I shrugged. "Your choice if you want to join in."

"I do!" he said hurriedly. "What are you planning?"

I started walking again, and he followed me. "Well, I wanted to see if I could find Pansy Parkinson. I was hoping I could talk to her."

"If you don't mind me asking," he began, "about what?"

"Well," I bit my lip. Why should I tell him? "We had a disagreement and I decided to be the bigger person and own up to her mistakes first. I hope it'll rub off on her."

Ernie snorted. "Do you really think it will?"

I sighed, shaking my head. "Logic says no, but my gut says try anyway. What's the worst that she could do?"

"Hex you," Ernie said bluntly.

"There's that," I nodded. "But, without risk, there is no reward."

Ernie simply nodded; I'm not sure if he ever heard the muggle saying before. At this point, it was nearly eleven. Ernie and I got swept up by stampeding Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors going off to the Quidditch pitch.

"There goes that plan," I sighed.

Ernie grinned. "You said you were going to the match anyway, didn't you?"

I nodded, scanning the crowd for any signs of Ravenclaws. I spotted Eddie as he wandered aimlessly and shoved through the crowd. I pulled Ernie through the large crowd towards my teammate, making sure to kick a few Slytherins on the way. We ended up trailing behind Eddie a little bit, so I dropped Ernie's arm and hopped onto Eddie's back. I knew he wouldn't be prepared, so I braced myself for a fall. Instead, though, Eddie grasped my legs.

"You don't have a lot of talent in sneaking up on people," he remarked. "Hi Holly."

"Eddie!" I grinned. "You know, you people confuse me."

Ernie looked up at me like I was some sort of nutcase…which I was. "How come?"

"Your names are too similar," I nodded. "Don't be surprised if I mix you two up."

Eddie sighed. "You're a Ravenclaw; you're not supposed to do that."

"That's stereotypical," I accused. "You obnoxious butt."

Ernie snorted. He seemed highly uninterested, or at least repulsed, by two-fifths of Ravenclaw's amazing Quidditch team.

Eddie ended up carrying me all the way to the stands, but he made me get off before we took the stairs. I followed Eddie up to the very top row and prayed that I wouldn't end up with a nosebleed. Those things are just disgusting. Somewhere along the way, we lost Ernie.

"Eddie," I tried, "where'd Ernie go?"

"Who cares? He's just a Hufflepuff," he scoffed. I narrowed my eyes.

"He's a human being, you know. He deserved to be worried about."

"So take a glance around and see if you spot him," he sighed. "Or find him at dinner. Just stop bothering me."

I opened my mouth to fire back, but closed it again. Eddie wasn't worth it most of the time. He always jumped on every opportunity to criticize others, and that made me want to claw his eyes out. I considered kicking him down the stairs after the match. I ruled that out, though, because Roger would murder me for killing one of his players.

Although Eddie wasn't our strongest…

I hopped into a seat in between Danny and Roger before Eddie could tackle me down. I'm sure Danny wasn't happy when I hopped over his lap.

"You missed breakfast, Toto," Danny remarked.

I shrugged. "Yeah, well. I'll eat later." Now that he mentioned it, I regretted not eating. I had an odd craving for pancakes.

"Men!" Roger called. I glared at him. "And Holly," he added. "We're observing strategy today. We'll have to play the winning team eventually. So I suggest you observe Gryffindor."

Duncan stared at him. "Two things. First, Slytherin might win."

"You lie!" Jason shouted.

"It's possible," Duncan yelled back. "Second, what makes you think we'll play the winning team? We have to win first."

Roger's shoulders fell. "We have a Holly. Hufflepuff doesn't have a Holly. We're going to win."

"What does Hufflepuff have?" I asked.

"A Cedric," Danny sighed.

I looked at my hands. I had to compete against Cedric? I didn't really want to do that. The boys on our sister/brother team at Fitchburg couldn't stand it when we had games against ourselves for practice. They wouldn't talk to us for weeks if we beat them. Then again, Cedric may not be as competitive.

"Cedric's fairly good, but he's not very rough-and-tough, even with the Slytherins," Eddie grimaced. "Holly, knock them out if you've got to."

"Will you all shut up?" Mandy said from behind us. "The match is starting, and I'd like to hear."

Lisa shrugged. "I'm here because I was dragged."

"Poor you," Jason grinned.

The teams came into the center of the stadium, and Oliver Wood ruefully shook the hand of the Slytherin captain.

"That's Marcus Flint," Danny said to me. "He's evil."

I sighed. "You all demonize them."

"Because they're demons," Roger said. I sent him a deathly glare. Slytherins are people too!

The teams were asked to mount their brooms. Fifteen players shot up into the air.

"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too—"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

I liked the commentary. It made the game better than anything on ESPN, honestly.

"Watch the Seekers, Holly," Mandy whispered behind me. "Makes no use for you to know how to hit a Bludger if you're after the Snitch."

I nodded and focused on Harry. He kind of floated around, doing nothing in particular.

Blaring in the back, I heard Lee Jordan's voice. I tried to tune him out, but it wasn't all that easy. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good friend of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve—back to Johnson and—no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle and off he goes—Flint flying like an eagle up there—he's going to sc—no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor keeper, Wood, and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle—that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and—Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and OUCH—that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger—Quaffle taken by the Slytherins—that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger –sent his way by Fred or George Weasley can't tell which—nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in the possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes—she's really flying—dodges a speeding Bludger—the goal posts are ahead—come on, now, Angelina-Keeper Bletchley dives—misses—GRYFFINDOR SCORE!"

I cheered for Gryffindor. I decided that, to be impartial, I would either have to cheer for both teams or not cheer at all. I went with the former.

Harry swooped around above the game in order to not get in the way. I wondered how, exactly, one doesn't get a nosebleed up there. I kind of worried for my personal safety. I noticed a Weasley twin deflect a Bludger away from Harry and towards Flint.

"Slytherin in possession," called Lee. "Chaser Pucey ducks the two Bludgers, two Weasley's, and Chaser Bell and speeds toward the—wait a moment—was that the Snitch?"

A low murmur came from all over the stands. "Watch him," Mandy said through clenched teeth. "Both of them. Ignore the crowd, ignore Jordan, ignore the Quaffle. We're not losing the cup."

"You sound like me," Danny remarked.

"We're related, dummy!" Mandy shouted.

I decided that Quidditch should be watched extremely closely. I just barely caught Harry getting hit by a Bludger. Where were those Weasley twins? I never prayed much, but I hoped that he came out unharmed.

"Foul! Foul!" The Gryffindors shouted in their section. "Foul!"

Madam Hooch reprimanded Flint and awarded a shot to Gryffindor. It appeared that the Seekers lost the Snitch, however. Our commentator couldn't remain impartial.

"So—after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—"

"Jordan!"

"I mean, after than open and revolting foul—"

"Jordan, I'm warning you—"

"Alright, alright, Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."

Harry's broom behaved in an odd fashion. "What's he doing?" I yelled, pressing myself against the boards.

"It doesn't look like he's doing anything," Jason growled. "It's the Slytherins!" I rolled my eyes again.

"No, no…it was the Bludger, right?" Mandy muttered.

Danny made a face. "No, Bludgers don't do that."

"Slytherin in possession—Flint with the Quaffle—passes Spinnet—passes Bell—hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose—only joking, Professor—Slytherins score—oh no…" Jordan continued to commentate.

"Look, all we know is that Harry lost control of his broom and someone's doing it to him," Roger said. "There's nothing we can do."

"Lies!" Duncan shouted. "He's being cursed, Roger. And you know that." What did he mean that Roger knew? Was he learnt in Quidditch curses?

Roger simply sent a silencing glare towards the older boy.

Lisa hopped from the row behind us and shared a seat with Jason. "If it's a curse, there's a counter curse."

Mandy sat on a very unhappy Danny. "But you need to know what curse is being used to cast the counter curse. Does anyone know that curse?"

All of us remained silent.

"God, Harry…don't die. I just met you. Don't die yet. Please," I mumbled under my breath. "I could deal with it if you got hurt, but don't go killing yourself."

Harry was now dangling on his rogue broom with one hand. "Someone do something!" I heard another Ravenclaw shout.

Lisa and I looked at the teachers at the same time. "Snape and Quirrell are mouthing words," she whispered.

"Then one's cursing him," Danny began.

"And the other's saving him," Eddie nodded. "I bet Quirrell's trying to save his skin."

"Stop demonizing the Slytherins!" I shouted. "They can't all suck; give it a rest!"

"She has a point," Grant said after a long, silent pause. "Houses don't define your character."

Lisa pointed to Snape and Quirrell. "Hermione knocked over Professor Quirrell and set Professor Snape on fire."

"So we don't know who was doing what. Stupid Gryffindor," Eddie sighed. "Ruining our fun."

I stared at Professor Snape. I didn't think he actually had the heart to curse Harry. But did Quirrell have the power? I wasn't sure. Snape certainly did.

Harry swooped towards the ground, looking as if he was going to be sick. Instead of stomach acid and other materials, he coughed up the golden Snitch.

"I've got the Snitch," he shouted excitedly and waved it above his head. The game ended in confusion.

"He didn't catch it, he nearly swallowed it," Flint flailed and shouted, obviously upset. He came off as a pitifully sore loser.

"Snape didn't curse him," I said to Mandy and Lisa on the way to the common room. "He didn't."

"How do you know?" Mandy asked. "He could have. We'll never know. Both of them were casting some kind of spell, both of them were…intercepted."

"By that pesky Gryffindor," Lisa added. "But I think we'll figure it out eventually. Maybe."