8
Olivia
On the second Saturday of the school year, Quidditch try outs began and as usual Rhys and I trudged our way up to the stands to watch. Wrapped up in scarfs to fight off the bitter breeze, we sat at the top of the bleachers and continued our tradition of sharing gossip and ogling at the hot Quidditch players.
"Please let the Slytherins go first." Rhys said, crossing her fingers like a child. I followed her gaze to where the players usually entered. It was empty but only because Rhys and I had gotten up extra early just for try outs. We liked to say we were dedicated.
"I don't know, I think the Hufflepuffs might beat them out this year." I replied, fishing binoculars out of Rhys' bag. "Ian Valerio is captain this year."
"Oh true, very true." Rhys said, refusing to take her eyes off of the entrance. "Valerio is gorgeous. If he had a brain I would be all over that."
Before I could answer, a group of red and gold clad figures walked into the stadium, brooms in hand and determined looks on their faces. At the front of the herd was Harry Potter and his girlfriend Ginny. Not too far behind them was Ron Weasley who stopped by the bleachers to talk to Hermione who I just noticed sitting in the first row of bleachers.
"Damn." Rhys complained, "The Gryffindors aren't even that cute. Since Oliver Wood left, the team has been going downhill in my opinion. Except for Ginny Weasley, she's gorgeous." I had to nod in agreement.
We watched as the Gryffindors mounted their brooms and shot into the air. It was impossible not to notice how Harry went the fastest, zooming between goal posts and soaring through the air as little more than a blur. The memory of our first flying class popped into my head, when Neville Longbottom broke his arm and Harry saved the day by stealing back Neville's remembrall. It all seemed so long ago but seeing Harry fly like that made it feel like yesterday.
"I bet Gryffindor will win this year." Rhys said, "After last year I'm pretty sure Harry can do anything. Not to mention he doesn't have much competition. The only Seeker that almost came to his standards was Draco Malfoy and there's no way he's playing Quidditch this year."
Gray eyes and small smiles flashed through my mind and made me flinch. Every time that stupid boy was mentioned I was brought back to Flitwick's class, watching him turn vinegar to wine. I had only seen him in passing for the rest of the week but that was enough to send me over the edge. I didn't know what had gotten into me but there was something about Draco Malfoy that suddenly made me want to rip my hair out.
"Why do you always do that?" Rhys asked, interrupting my thoughts. "Whenever I bring up Malfoy you make that face like I just killed your first born child or something. What's your deal with him?"
"Nothing! There's no deal." I said much too quickly. Rhys raised her eyebrows, her signature look that meant "spill or I'll make you."
"Seriously, it was nothing. I just had to teach him a spell in Flitwick's extra help lesson on Monday." I explained, knowing that it wasn't just nothing. Rhys still looked suspicious.
"Come on, Rhys." I said, plastering on a fake smile. I had to choke the words out. "He's a Death Eater."
"You're right." She replied, her face back to normal but her eyes still blazing. "He's just a wannabe lowlife that doesn't deserve any of the attention he gets. Especially not from someone like you." The words sounded more like a warning than an observation.
I was totally screwed.
That night I wandered the halls much later than I should've been. I was still before curfew and nowadays the rules weren't as strict but I still felt uneasy. Only delinquents and people with bad intentions roamed the castle at night and I didn't want to be caught as either. But I had too much going on in my head to risk being in the Slytherin common room.
When they first started rebuilding Hogwarts, the wizarding world was divided on how to honor those who had died. The list of dead grew, starting with victims of the battle all the way to people that were killed when the war began. The goal was to have a place where wizards and witches could mourn and remember everyone lost for the past 17 years.
Eventually they made a whole building dedicated to the dead. Each person had a plaque that told who they were and a picture of them hanging above it. People could go at any time to leave flowers or just talk. The place was crowded on opening night.
But with that came a smaller version in Hogwarts itself. It was meant for the students that had lost friends and siblings so that they could visit even at school. I hadn't known anyone who had died but I decided to go anyway. Somehow it felt right.
The room was lit only by candles that stood in front the portraits. For once the paintings didn't move, probably because the occasion was just too sad. The room was lined with pew like chairs that sat in front of each picture and plaque. The room wasn't very big but the amount of portraits made it feel like eternity.
It didn't take long for me to notice Wes' reddish brown head, sitting on one of the benches in front of the memorial for Harry Potter. When I sat down he didn't even flinch.
"I never really understood why they put him in here." Wes said, nodding his head to the portrait in front of us. "I mean, he did die but no one is mourning him. He's still here. Not everyone was so lucky."
"You should give him more credit." I replied, studying those green eyes and that famous lightning scar. "He saved us all. Not many people could do that."
"When I think of the Potter Generation I think of a group of kids that were thrown into something that they really didn't deserve. Everyone talks about how courageous and brave we are but really we're just like the other generations. We're scared rebellious teenagers that fight when adults are too afraid. And it's sad. It's so sad how we've been through so much and we get so much fame when really all we want is to be normal.
"I think Harry likes this portrait about as much as we do." Wes sighed, looking at me with eyes that were so full of passion I wondered why he was the only one that wanted to do something about us. There were so many rumors and stereotypes surrounding not only the Potter Generation but all Hogwarts students and somehow he was the only one that wanted to prove them wrong.
"You're going to be famous one day." I said, really believing the words.
"For what? Making a crappy documentary that I probably won't even finish?"
"For making people see that there's more to us than Harry Potter and death. For forcing people to see that things aren't always perfect here."
We were both quiet then, watching the shadows of the candles flicker over the walls. I didn't know Wes very well but in that moment I knew exactly what he was fighting for. No matter how crazy or confusing it was it made sense to me. I wanted to help him.
"This is a really dumb question but I need a second opinion." I said, breaking the silence.
"Shoot."
"What are your thoughts on Draco Malfoy?"
"I think that there's a difference between what people think and what he actually is." He answered after a minute of silence.
We didn't stay long after that but for some reason I felt accomplished. Like I had learned something from sitting in a memorial with a Ravenclaw I barely knew. I felt like things were starting to clear up finally.