𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀 → hermione granger

23: mudbloods and murmurs

RAVEN AND HARRY SPENT A LOT OF TIME over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever they saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized their schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Raven, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated Raven sounded when she said it.

  Hedwig was still angry with the twins about the disastrous car journey and Ron's wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, everyone was quite glad to reach the weekend. Raven, Harry, Apollo, Ron, and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Raven, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than she would have liked by Angelina Johnson, one of the other Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.

  "What's going on?" said Raven groggily.

  "Quidditch practice!" said Angelina just as tired. "Come on!"

  Raven squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink and gold sky. Now that she was awake, she couldn't understand how she could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

Raven croaked. "Angelina, it's the crack of dawn."

"It's part of our new training program, apparently. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Angelina.

  Yawning and shivering slightly, Raven climbed out of bed and tried to find her Quidditch robes.

  When she found her scarlet team robes and pulled on her cloak for warmth, she scribbled a note to Hermione explaining where she'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, her Nimbus Two Thousand on her shoulder. She had joined Harry who was waiting for her and they had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind them and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

  "I heard someone saying your names on the stairs! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you—"

  Harry and Raven looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.

  A moving, black and white Lockhart was tugging hard on two arms Raven recognized as Harry's and her own. She was pleased to see that her photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As they watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

  "Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

  "No," said Raven flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, Colin, We're  in a hurry—Quidditch practice—"

  He climbed through the portrait hole.

  "Oh, wow! Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

  Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

  "It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.

  "You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" said Colin, trotting alongside him. "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?"

  They didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.

  "I don't really understand Quidditch," said Colin breathlessly. "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"