Hey guys. Do I really need a disclaimer? Naah...
Enjoy! R & R, if that's what everyone else says!
The first week passed in a confusing blur, which Catrin could remember little of except getting lost. But there were some lessons too: there was Charms with Professor Flitwick, who was so small and old his gnarled skin resembled a walnut, and who had them endlessly practicing the 'swish and flick' movement needed to levitate objects; Transfiguration with Professor Patil, who had impressed them greatly with her ability to change desks into porcupines and back (none of them had yet been able to replicate the feat). Not counting Herbology, in which Catrin and Mary were nearly strangled by an innocent-looking plant that turned out to be Devils' Snare; A History of Magic, which was taught by an aged ghost (he'd given them all a nasty shock when he'd suddenly glided through the blackboard one morning) and had the magical power of being able to send them all to sleep; and Astronomy with Professor Logarith during which the moon and stars apparently took on deep, mystical meanings.
It was all so mind-bogglingly different from anything that Catrin had known that she'd had difficulty adjusting at first, however by Saturday she'd eventually found her way down to the Great Hall with Alice without getting lost once.
"Morning." She said cheerfully to Valerie, who was staring morosely at an untouched piece of toast. "You look like you slept well."
Valerie gazed blearily up at her. "I was up for ages last night after my ink bottle spilled all over my books. I had to get a fifth-year to help siphon it off, eventually."
"Nasty." Alice smiled sympathetically at the lethargic girl, who grimaced back. Catrin decided not to mention that she had trouble writing with quills too, as well as the fact that she was re-learning how to write: her time on the streets had left her literacy skills a little the worse for wear.
"And that's not all: it's Flying Lessons today."
"Oh yeah..."
Actually, Catrin had thought a great deal about the new hot issue circling the first-years: learning to fly on a broomstick. The idea seemed all at once terrifying and exhilarating- how amazing would it be to actually fly? And then fall off, obviously, but she was trying not to think about that.
"I remember when Dad tried to teach me to fly." Alice said reminiscently. "He says that I didn't get my ability from him- he fell off the broom and broke his wrist first time he tried- well, he says so anyway."
That was the other thing about flying: everyone else regaling them with tales of how they had almost been sighted by Muggles, or ran into hang-gliders, or nearly been spotted on 'vidie-oo'. For people with no experience of the magical world, it seemed that all the others were immediate experts. Just yesterday Catrin had heard Fred boasting about the time he'd outflown Harry Potter himself and gotten to the Snitch before him.
"They're all a lot of braggers." Mary said bracingly when she voiced these fears, but that didn't stop Catrin from losing her appetite slightly, especially now it was the day.
After breakfast, the first-years trooped down to the grounds, where a stern-faced woman was waiting at the front of two rows of broomsticks. Catrin noticed that her eyes were as yellow as a hawks'.
"Well? What are you all waiting for? Everybody stand beside a broomstick, quick quick!"
The class hastened to oblige, scrambling to stand beside the least mouldy-looking broom. Catrin ended up standing next to Fred Weasley and a hefty Slytherin boy who she thought was named Macnair.
She also noticed that Fred, for all his boasting, was looking distinctly nervous at the prospect of flying one of the rotting tree-trunks that constituted the schools' brooms.
"Are these supposed to keep us in the air?" She whispered before she could stop herself.
Fred flashed a grin at her. "You never know, Jones. They might fall to pieces before we fly above 10 feet: if we're lucky, that is."
Catrin gulped and stared back down at the offending item.
"Everybody stick your hand over your broom, and shout 'UP'." Hooch called sternly.
Everybody did so- Catrin included, and was surprised to feel her broom snap to her hand, like it was on elastic. Suddenly, she felt a little braver. Fred's had done the same; so had James', but Valerie and Macnair were having a little more trouble. "Up- up!" He snarled as the broom skittered around below him.
Catrin couldn't help herself; she laughed, and immediately Macnair rounded on her.
"You think it's so funny, Mudblood?" He growled. "I'd try not to get too smug; wait 'till you're in the air."
"If you can't get the broom into the air now, what's the chance you'll be able to knock me off mine? Obviously you must be part 'Mudblood' yourself." She retorted, and heard Fred snort, and whisper "Nicely done, Jones."
Hooch hadn't noticed any of this. Instead, she proceeded to instruct them in how to mount their brooms, and then how to "kick off hard; we don't want any brooms hovering where you left them."
"We'll let you try your strengths today, and get accustomed to flying before we attempt anything else." She finished, and then blew her whistle.
Catrin kicked off; pushing against the ground, she felt the broom rise in response to her motion, and then she was flying, actually flying! The wind whipped at her hair and stung her cheeks as she wobbled around cautiously, unable to help a wild grin of elation spread across her face. Then she realised something: she didn't know how to move. And therefore, she was, in effect, a sitting duck for Macnair.
Glancing around, she took in the others: Mary was having just as much trouble as her, along with the rest of the class, whilst James, Fred and a couple of others were zipping around –as much as one could zip on this type of broom- with relative ease. Macnair was nowhere to be seen.
She looked around cautiously- nope. Which was just as well, as she was a pretty obvious target up here. She felt so isolated! What if she fell?
Then-
"Hey, Mudblood- look out!" Catrin gasped, glanced around frantically- just in time for an immense weight to soar up beneath her and knock her off her broom.
"That bully!"
"Don't worry, Mary."
"Revenge! Come on! I'm serious!"
"So am I."
Catrin stared down at the parchment on which she was supposed to be describing the different tinctures used in Defence Against the Dark Arts to stop inflammation curses. As she watched, a drop of ink splashed onto the creamy surface. After Macnair had knocked her off her broom, Hooch had screamed at everyone to come back down at once and let her tend to Miss Jones, which she had done so. Fortunately, the scratches weren't that bad- she had grabbed a fistful of Macnair's robes as she'd fallen- but enough for Hooch to call an end to the practice and storm off, muttering about how flying lessons always went wrong.
Obviously, flying was not her forte. Catrin was loath to get back on a broom again, which was just as well since they only had a couple more lessons to go and Macnair had been banned from further practices and marched off the Head of Slytherin for a round of shouting.
Then she remembered something.
"Hey, guys- I've got something which might help for revenge! It's Macnair's!" Mary leaned forwards eagerly, and Alice smiled. Together they watched as Catrin drew out a slim square of folded paper that she had torn out of Macnair's pocket whilst grabbing his robes, and slowly unfolded it.
Hi Mum, Dad
Thanks for your letter, and just to let you know, Slytherin is great! Just purebloods and a couple of half-bloods, no muddy muck to worry us here.
Just to let you know: I talked to Lestrange, and he's hidden the item in the room of reflections, so no worries. I'm not sure about how it works, but he says don't worry, it'll be suitable for the purposes. I don't think Potter's son will be able to do anything about it, either: it's too well hidden.
When are you sending my first food package? Mum, you said you'd send some cauldron cakes for my friends. Come on!
Richard
There was silence for a couple of minutes whilst the trio read the parchment, and then Alice let out a long, slow whistle. "Well, this is interesting."
"Yes, it is..." Catrin stared down at the letter. What was the 'item'? And where was the 'room of reflections'? It all sounded very confusing...not to mention suspicious.
"Yeah!" Mary squealed, mischief alight in her eyes. "'First food package?' Come on guys! I think the time is right for a little trickery...what say you?"
"Yes." Alice said firmly. When Catrin flashed her a surprised glance she grinned. "What? I think that Macnair's got it coming to him."
"Too right." She murmured, staring at the paper. "Too right he has."
"And swish and flick, that's right, class! Just remember to pronounce 'Leviosa' correctly." Trilled Flitwick from his perch atop a pile of teetering volumes. "Try not to blow up your feathers less than ten minutes into the lesson too: I had a student once who managed it in about three...off you go!"
The classroom was filled with energetic wand-waving and shouts of 'Wingardium Leviosa'. More than one feather caught fire, and several starting zooming crazily around the lampshade, out of control.
Catrin loved Charms.
She had just spent the last few minutes finalizing details with Valerie, Mary and Alice vis-à-vis Macnair, and now she was having just as much trouble as the others with levitation, cool as it had seemed at first.
"Wingard- Wingardiume- oh bother!" Mary's feather started undulating vigorously on the spot, like it was doing an invisible conga, and Alice's feather started smoking ominously at the edges.
Alice stared at the waving fronds, then looked at Mary and Catrin seriously. "Guess what happened recently? Dad's just told me."
"Apart from him being made Head of Gryffindor House?" Teased Mary. This had been the subject of many discussions recently, so much so that Catrin had tended to stop listening whenever 'Gryffindor' was mentioned.
"Apart from that." Alice dismissed. "There's been another disappearance."
"What do you mean, 'another'?" Catrin felt her insides ice up like they'd been stuck in a freezer, and she stared at her friend.
Across the table, Valerie's blue eyes widened. "You don't know?"
"No..." Catrin didn't read the Daily Prophet, as she had no money to pay the delivery owl. "But fill me in."
"Well, the first one- Lavender Thomas- disappeared about a week ago. No trace at all. Scary, huh? I asked Dad; apparently, he knew her." Alice explained.
"Yeah..." Catrin frowned. No trace at all? That sounded like magic...but who would do that? Especially in this era, post-Voldemort...
Alice ploughed on, oblivious to her friend's ponderings. "And the other one happened yesterday: apparently, Maria Creevey had her mother over, and she went into the kitchen- then, poof! There was nobody there. Dad's spooked. He knew both of them, apparently."
Catrin glanced across the room, through the chaos, to Michael Thomas, Lavender's son. He was sitting there numbly, not even bothering to wave his wand. She felt a pang of empathy- she, too, knew what it was like to lose a mother.
Mary glanced up from trying to subdue her energetic feather, and shuddered theatrically. "That's so creepy: are there any clues left behind?"
"Apparently some liquid on the floor, but nothing apart from that. I bet it's a potion of some kind." Valerie interjected eagerly.
"If only we had some ourselves, then we could figure out what's happening." Mary said enthusiastically.
"Yes, we're all regular detectives..." began Catrin.
"No, I'm serious. Obviously the Ministry hasn't done anything yet, so why can't we? Weren't Harry Potter and his friends solving mysteries in their first year here?"
"True." Valerie grinned. "But we're hardly up to their standard. Forget it, Mare."
"Once we're able to master this spell, then we will be." Mary closed her eyes and began waving her wand erratically. Catrin turned her attention to the feather. It couldn't be that hard...
Swish and flick...
"Wingardium Leviosa!" The feather teetered uncertainly- then slowly, steadily, bobbed up to the ceiling where it batted gently against the wood. Catrin grinned, a surge of triumph crashing through her like a wave. She had done it!
"Oh well done!" Squealed tiny Professor Flitwick. "Ten well-earned points to Gryffindor, Miss Jones."
And then-
"And Mr Weasley! Excellently done! Oh, go on then- another ten points to Gryffindor!" Surprised, Catrin glanced across the room to see another floating quill, directed by a grinning Fred Weasley. James was beside him, watching the feather with interest. That, she had to admit, soured her victory a little, but-
Beside them, Michael Thomas stared down at his feather with all the interest of a dying man. Catrin's stomach clenched.
"You know," she said quietly to Mary. "If Potter and Weasley are half as good as they say they are, they might be able to help."