The Chaser [sequel to The Mudblood]

Chapter 7: Year 1

The rest of September flew by faster than my Firebolt Deluxe, which I actually spent less time on than usual. Even though Dominique scheduled practices nearly every night, it still didn't compare to my mum's training. For once, I actually had the time and energy to focus and learn about magic.

Good thing, since I had double the homework I should've.

Sadly, Cayden Nott wasn't enough of an airhead jock to forget our deal, and he'd promptly delivered a stack of textbooks and parchment to my dorm room that evening. Some of his homework involved information I had vague knowledge of from growing up in a wizarding household, but I didn't trust anything either of my parents had taught me, especially when I found out not all Boggarts took the shape of Uncle Adrian holding the world's biggest trophy. I felt as clueless as a Muggle-born.

Albus coasted through classes without a struggle, even though he spent more time scribbling in my journal than paying attention to lectures. All my hasty efforts to retrieve it failed, and I'd yet to discern any secrets of his that might nullify his blackmail. As far as I could tell, he didn't fancy anyone, and he hadn't cheated his way through anything.

Luckily, Scorpius was too busy lamenting his concussion to catch any of the hints Albus or Duncan made about my crush on him. The nurse had healed him immediately after the tryout, but he still acted like a trauma victim, silencing anyone who brought up the subject of Quidditch. I would have thanked him for suppressing my least favorite topic, but my voice was on his written out list of things that worsened his concussion. Apparently my refusal to partake in his skit to win Rose's heart had eternally destroyed our friendship.

No matter. Britney made sure to fill my socialization well, against my will. Every day she introduced a new game or activity to facilitate the first year Slytherins' camaraderie, and every day she was disappointed when Albus avoided us at all costs and the rest of the boys twisted her plans into a mockery.

This didn't deter Britney's dreams, which she claimed were "inevitable." By the end of September, she pivoted her attention to crafting cheerleading uniforms for our "posse," and I wished upon every candle floating in the Great Hall that she wouldn't finish by the first Quidditch match. The last thing I needed was an embarrassing distraction that would cost me the game, especially since my mum would be there.

She had deigned to send me a birthday gift after hearing I'd made the team, but the parcel went directly from King's talons to the dusty depths under my bed. I didn't want whatever rubbish was probably meant to facilitate her goals for my life. Better to imagine she'd actually sent me the Dancing Donuts—that two random Gryffindors I hardly knew hadn't managed to bring me more happiness than my mother.

Weirdly, James and Fred didn't corner me about any further attempts to retrieve the Invisibility Cloak, and I realized why on my trek to the first years' first flying lesson, when an imperceptible mass bumped me into the entrance hall wall.

"I'm taller, I should lead," Fred's voice hissed as I rubbed my shoulder.

"It's my cloak."

"It's your father's cloak."

"How'd you two get it back?" I demanded, startling them enough that their feet fumbled out from beneath the fabric.

"Pucey, are you spying on us?" James asked, breathless and appalled.

I glared at the empty space where I assumed they stood. "Did you get my journal back too? You owe me my journal for the Dancing Donut prank."

A long moment passed, and I thought they'd quietly snuck away until I reached my hand and poked one of their chests.

"Agh!" Fred yelped. "Don't rip my heart out!"

"We, uh, didn't get your journal," James admitted, his shoe awkwardly scuffing the floor. "I paid Dominique to get the Cloak, and...kinda...forgot about the journal? Kinda forgot you exist, actually."