Emma Potter; Going to War

64: Lesson Number 1

Life was hard. I had to practice more for the match, since I had no training whatsoever. Amber, Ember, Zoe, Jessica and Ginny were great. Astoria was better than I expected. But I did not have my brother's natural talent. 

But the things we do to win. Ember and Amber woke me up with Jessica at 4 o'clock everyday of the week, to practice. And Jessica was a serious female Oliver Wood. All that said, I was getting loads better. 

I had scored 5 goals to boot last training, but the problem also was the broom. The broom I was using was old and and shuddered in the middle. 

Ember suggested I use Malfoy's broom. 

"Like he would lend it to me." I had scoffed "I'm worse then dirt to him."

Ember looked surprised. "Aren't you dating?" she had asked. 

I had blushed. For one, I'm sure I would have remembered having a boyfriend. For another, the fact that the most attractive boy in the year would pay attention to me was quite flattering. I told her the first point. 

"Oh. Well, ask your brother then."

I sighed, I knew this was unavoidable. With a Firebolt and my slowly improving skills we might, just might, have a chance of winning. 

But the problem was the Firebolt was Sirius's gift to Harry. If I ruined it, and worked to pay to buy him a new one it wouldn't be the same. But. . .I did need it. 

"Harry" I had mumbled the dinner before our lesson with Dumbledore , while we were eating dessert"mayIborrowyourFirebolt?"

"What?" said Harry confused. I took a deep breath. 

"May I borrow your Firebolt?" I asked, embarrassed "you know. . .for the match?" 

When he didn't say anything I started rambling "I'll be super careful with it I swear, You will never have to worry. But if you don't want that's totally fine--"

"You can borrow it" 

I looked up startled "wait, really?"

"Sure" he said, smiling "just be careful--"

I had thrown my arms around my brother's neck, "thank you!" I said.

We bid the others goodbye and made our way to Dumbledore's study. 

We proceeded through deserted corridors, though we had tostep hastily behind a statue when Professor Trelawney appearedaround a corner, muttering to herself as she shuffled a pack ofdirty-looking playing cards, reading them as she walked. 

"Two of spades: conflict," she murmured, as she passed the placewhere Harry crouched, hidden. "Seven of spades: an ill omen. Tenof spades: violence. Knave of spades: a dark young man, possiblytroubled, one who dislikes the questioner —"

 She stopped dead, right on the other side of our statue. 

"Well, that can't be right," she said, annoyed, and I heardher reshuffling vigorously as she set off again, leaving nothing buta whiff of cooking sherry behind her. Harry and I waited until we were quite sure she had gone, then hurried off again until we reached thespot in the seventh-floor corridor where a single gargoyle stoodagainst the wall. 

"Acid Pops,"I said, and the gargoyle leapt aside; the wallbehind it slid apart, and a moving spiral stone staircase was revealed, onto which we stepped, so that we were carried in smoothcircles up to the door with the brass knocker that led to Dumbledore's office. 

Harry knocked. 

"Come in," said Dumbledore's voice.

 "Good evening, sir," Harry and I, walking into the headmaster'soffice.