𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

- 𝗺𝘂𝗱𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘂𝗿𝗺𝘂𝗿𝘀 -

Lucia 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 memorised Lucia's timetable. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Lucia?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin", back, however exasperated Lucia sounded when she said it.

Hedwig was still angry with Lucia 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, Lucia was quite glad to reach the weekend. She, Ron and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Lucia, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than she would have liked by Oliver Wood, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" said Lucia groggily.

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

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

"Oliver", Lucia croaked, "it's the crack of dawn".

"Exactly", said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a mad enthusiasm. "It's part of our new training programme. Come on, grab your broom and let's go", said Wood heartily. "None of the other teams have started training yet, we're going to be first off the mark this year..."

Yawning and shivering slightly, Lucia climbed out of bed and began to search for her Quidditch robes.

"Meet you on the pitch in fifteen minutes", said Wood.

When she'd found her scarlet team robes and pulled on her cloak for warmth, Lucia 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, from the boys' dormitory, with his camera swinging madly around his neck and something was clutched tightly in his hand.

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

Lucia looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under her nose.

A moving, black and white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Lucia recognised 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 Lucia watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

"No", said Lucia flatly, 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.

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

"You were the youngest house player in a hundred years, weren't you, Lucia? 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?"