Mia Potter was the other Potter. Looking almost identical to her mother, she was a force to be reckoned with. But there was only one person who could reckon with her, and his name was Draco Malfoy.
In which the youngest Potter twin finds herself fa...
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Professor McGonagall was sweeping along without even looking at her. She had to jog to keep up.
"Professor," Mia said as she jogged after her, "it was Malfoy. . . ."
"Enough Potter," McGonagall said as they carried on walking. Mia pursed her lips as they walked up the front steps and up the marble staircase inside. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Mia hurrying behind her.
"But. . . ."
"Potter, be quiet," she snapped. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom. "You wait here."
She opened the door and poked her head inside.
"Professor Quirrell, excuse me, excuse me," Mia poked her head behind McGonagall, "could I borrow Wood for a moment, please?"
Her eyes went wide as she moved her head back. Was Wood a cane she was going to use on her?
"Oh," Quirrell said, "y-yes, of course. And the vampire b-bat. . . ."
But Wood turned out to be a person, a burly fifth-year boy who came out of Flitwick's class looking confused. Mia looked back, just as confused.
"Potter, this is Oliver Wood," McGonagall said as Oliver and Mia send each other small yet confused smiles. "Wood, I have found you a Seeker!"
Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.
"Are you serious, Professor?"
"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The girl's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"
Mia nodded silently.
"She caught that thing in her hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch herself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it."
Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.
"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.
"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.
"She's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Mia and staring at her. "Light, small, speedy. . . . we'll have to get her a decent broom, Professor. A Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."
"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks. . . "
Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Mia.
"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."
