Denia Lily Potter, the only Potter sorted into Slytherin in what felt like centuries, wasn’t a morning person. It wasn’t that she hated mornings—it was just that the day had the unfortunate habit of starting far too early. The cold air of the dungeons didn't help either. It made crawling out of bed feel like torture, especially on days like today when the Gryffindors had taken over the pitch at the crack of dawn for Quidditch practice.
Being part of the Slytherin team—especially as the first girl in nearly thirty years to do so—was usually something Denia relished. After all, there was nothing quite like the thrill of flying, the wind whipping through her hair as the ground blurred beneath her. The game required precision, and the unpredictability of the match set her nerves on fire in the best way possible.
But today? Today she could already tell it was going to be a mess.
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Denia pulled her Slytherin robes tighter around her as she descended the stone steps into the common room. The chill from the damp walls didn’t do much for her mood, and she scowled when she saw the time on her pocket watch. It was too early for this, and she had a nagging feeling that this practice wasn’t going to be the simple, straightforward session Marcus Flint had promised.
As she entered the common room, she found most of the Slytherin team gathered and half-asleep. Malfoy was also there. Marcus was pacing the room like a lion in a cage, his dark eyes flashing with determination. Turns out the entire Slytherin team had new brooms, courtesy of Draco. She rolled her eyes. Typical.
“Alright, everyone up!” Flint barked. “We’ve got the pitch booked for this morning, and we need to start strong if we’re going to crush Gryffindor this year.”
Peregrine Derrick, one of their Beaters, let out a loud groan from his place on the sofa. “Do we have to? I swear it’s still night outside.”
“Not if you want to keep your spot, Derrick,” Flint growled, causing Derrick to sit up abruptly, muttering curses under his breath.
Lucian Bole, the other Beater, simply yawned as he swung his bat over his shoulder. He and Derrick always looked like they’d just woken up, no matter the time of day.
Denia stifled her own yawn as she adjusted the strap of her broomstick over her shoulder. “Flint, please tell me you’re not about to drag us out into the mud this early without a solid plan.”
“Oh, there’s a plan,” Marcus replied with a wicked grin. “We’re going to get a good look at the Gryffindors’ tactics. They’re out on the pitch right now.”
Denia raised an eyebrow. Of course they were. It seemed that no matter how early the Slytherins tried to get the field, Oliver Wood would always find a way to beat them to it. He had that obsessiveness that only a Quidditch captain could have.
The team reluctantly trudged out of the common room, making their way through the dungeon corridors toward the Quidditch pitch. Flint led the way, his broom slung over his shoulder like a battle-axe. Denia walked beside Adrian Pucey, the most competent Chaser on the team, whose sleepy smirk told her he found the whole situation amusing.
“Looking forward to knocking some Gryffindor heads today?” Pucey asked, casting her a sidelong glance.
“Always,” Denia replied with a half-smile. “Though I’d rather hex them off their brooms and save us all the trouble.”
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Wands And Wings
FanfictionLyra Maeve Stark never expected that death would be the beginning of something new. Reincarnated into the world of Harry Potter as Denia Lily Potter, twin sister to the Boy Who Lived, she is thrust into a life she had only known through the pages of...
