Like A Flower Blooming

Chapter 12

The book, Quidditch Through the Ages, proved to be a really interesting book. I learned all the rules of Quidditch and that there were over a hundred ways to commit a foal and that all of them had been committed in a Quidditch match in the 15th century.

Ron was super excited. He’d loved Quidditch since he was a little kid and was a huge fan of the Chudley Cannons. I was also excited but also extremely nervous. I had no idea how to really play Quidditch and I was terrified of what would happen in the match. 

People weren’t helping with the commentary as usual. I didn’t know what was worse: that I’d be great or they’ll run below me, holding a mattress underneath me. 

So, as usual, I ignored them and concentrated on practices every Friday and homework. Plus, mastering spells. 

But, one day, Hermione came running to me, flustered with excitement. She carried a huge book underneath her arm.

“ Ari! Look at this!” she said, dumping the book on my Potions essay.

“ Hermione! Snape’s going to give me a D! I don’t want another one!” I complained.

“ Ari, focus on this. Not that stupid Potions essay!” she said, flipping through pages. 

I stared in complete shock. Hermione Granger telling someone to get off the homework. The world had officially gone insane!

“ Hermione? Have you been brainwashed?” I asked with complete concern in my voice.

“ No. Why?” she asked, looking at me.

“ Because you just told me to do something other than homework.... AND you called the Potions essay stupid,” I answered.

“ No. But this is more important than.... AH HA!” she said, pointing at a picture. It was of a boy with messy hair, hazel eyes and glasses. His hair stuck up in the back and his grin was mischievous like he’d rather be planting a Dungbomb in Filch’s office than taking this picture. The picture waved at me and I read the caption underneath: James Potter. On the top, I read: 2nd Year-Gryffindor. 

“ And... your Dad’s in here,” she said, flipping to the back of the yearbook to a team black-and-white photo. The same guy sat in the front bleachers, hugging his teammates. I read the names underneath:

Captain: Jesse Newman-Brown

Seeker: James Potter

Catchers: Ava Mudde, Cassie Radovitch, Sam White, Josh Collins, Sammie Jenkins, J-J Green and Jack Elman

Beaters: Al Newman-Brown and Matthew Rodgers

“ My dad was the Seeker?” I whispered in shock.

“ Apparently. And REALLY good. There are four Quidditch cups in the trophy room that has his name on it. Not one or two, FOUR!” she said. 

I went back to the page and stared at the caption on the top. “ He was in Gryffindor... like me.” 

“ Ari, do you know anything about your parents?” asked Hermione.

“ No.... I can’t remember them and my aunt and uncle HATE talking about them,” I answered, staring at the picture. My eyes zoomed through all the pictures and stopped on one.

“ Hermione.... why am I in one of these pictures?” I asked.

“ What?” said Hermione, spinning back to come back.

“ Look,” I answered, pointing at the picture. Same green eyes, same facial shape, same color of hair, same everything...

“ Her name is Lily Evans,” said Hermione, checking the caption.

“ Evans... that’s Aunt Petunia’s maiden name and Lily was my mom’s name. That’s my mom! We look so alike,” I said, examining the picture a little more carefully.

“ Thank you, Hermione,” I said, hugging the book to my chest. 

“ You’ve never seen a picture of your parents before,” said Hermione. 

“ Yea. I was a baby when they died and my aunt hated my mom for some reason. She hates me also,” I answered, cradling the book to my chest as I leaned back in my chair. 

“ That’s so sad. That article about you was right?” asked Hermione.

“ Yeah. Most of it.” I reopened my Potions book and kept on writing my three-page essay. 

“ So... how’s Quidditch going?” asked Hermione. 

“ Great. I’m doing pretty well in it. I’m managing to learn all the rules from that book you gave me. Thanks, by the way!” I answered, scribbling down a sentence. 

“ It’s nothing. I’m just glad you managed to find a good use for it. Um.... Ari... you do know that bezoars come from the stomach of a goat, not the belly.”

“ A belly is a stomach,” I answered.

“ No, it isn’t. They’re two completely different things. Just rewrite it!” she said.

“ Hermione, this essay is due TOMORROW. I don’t have enough time to rewrite it. I’ll just cross it out, alright?” I answered.

“ No. It’ll be a messy essay and you know what I say about mes....”

“ STOP! I don’t want the lecture again! Go, do your homework or something! I need to concentrate,” I interrupted her, waving her away and crossed out belly, replacing it with stomach.She huffed and walked away. 

Half an hour later, I was done. I blew on the ink to dry and put it in my bag when it was dry. In my dorm, I took a soothing bath and scrubbed my hair clean. I changed into my PJ’s and read a book while all the other girls came in and changed into their PJ’s and nightgowns. 

At ten, it was lights-out as the Prefect came to remind us and I closed my eyes and fell asleep in my warm down-comforter. 

The next day was Saturday, a free day. After breakfast, I sat by the lake and leaned against a tree, reading a book I’d checked out of the library. It was a historical fiction book that was really interesting. 

The days passed by quickly and training kept on going. It went from one day a week to three. After seeing me fly in the first practice I’d been in, the whole team welcomed me aboard and I grew to understand why the whole wizarding world loved Quidditch so much. Quidditch had this sense of excitement and competition that made it so loved. It was a lot like soccer in the Muggle world. 

Weeks passed by and soon it was Halloween. Hagrid had been seen for the last week, growing giant pumpkins( with a little help from his pink umbrella, I guessed). And everyone in Gryffindor Tower told us about the exciting feasts from the years before. The first-years hung onto every word that the older kids told them and shared stories that they’d heard from their siblings. We were all extremely excited.