𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 - Harry Potter x Fem!Reader¹

6.. MUDBLOODS AND MURMURS

Y/N spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever she saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Y/N's schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Y/N?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however utterly tired Y/N sounded when she said it. At least Jonathan wasn't too horrible; he and Y/N sometimes waved at each other from a distance and went back to whatever they were doing. Though, Y/N couldn't help but think, he's been spending a lot of time with Ginny at the Gryffindor table lately for a Ravenclaw.

Daniyar was still angry with Y/N 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, Y/N was quite glad to reach the weekend. She, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Y/N, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than she would have liked by Angelina Johnson, the third-year Gryffindor chaser.

"What?" said Y/N groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Angelina. "Come on!"

Y/N 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.

"Angelina," Y/N croaked. "It's the crack of dawn."

"I know," sighed Angelina sympathetically. "It's part of Oliver's new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go before Oliver throws a fit. Alicia and I'll meet you on the field."

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

When she'd found her scarlet team robes and pulled on her cloak for warmth, Y/N 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 just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind her 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 name on the stairs, Y/N! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you —"

Y/N looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.

A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Y/N recognized as 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 Y/N watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"That's nice, Colin," said Y/N dryly.

"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

"Er — maybe later," said Y/N, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted. "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry — Quidditch practice —"

She climbed through the portrait hole.

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

Colin scrambled through the hole after her.

"Are you sure — it'll be really boring," Y/N said quickly, but Colin ignored her, his face shining with excitement.

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