The Girl Who Never Lived¹ | h. potter

💎Chapter 8💎

Ciara didn't believe her luck could get any worse. First, she was sorted into Gryffindor (not that she minded that she was with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but her mother was going to have a fit) she almost got detention with Professor Snape, (scrubbing all thirty of his cauldrons clean with a toothbrush) and lost Gryffindor ten points during that lesson. She had thought that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Unfortunately, things did get worse.

Thanks to Ciara's schedule, she could tell that first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with annoying Slytherins (Malfoy) as much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday--and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy." Ciara chuckled, "Don't worry. You'll be fine. I'll take care of Malfoy if he gets too annoying." Ron sent her begging look, "Please do."

It was a little obvious to Ciara that Harry had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," Ron said after a moment of silence, "I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Ciara shifted uneasily. It actually wasn't just talk. Draco was very good when it came to riding a broom and playing Quidditch. He had been playing since he was three years old (he had forced her to play until she was locked in the basement). She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

This was not going to end well.

She glanced around the breakfast table taking in everyone's excited faces. Harry isn't the only excited one, she thought. Seamus Finnigan told it, he'd spent most of his childhood zooming around the countryside on his broomstick. Even Ron would tell anyone who'd listen about the time he'd almost hit a hang glider on Charlie's old broom.

Everyone from wizarding families talked about Quidditch constantly. Ron had already had a big argument with Dean Thomas, who shared their dormitory, about soccer. Ron couldn't see what was exciting about a game with only one ball where no one was allowed to fly. Ciara had seen Harry eyeing Ron as he prodded Dean's poster of West Ham soccer team, trying to make the players move.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Ciara felt she'd had a good reason because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Hermione Granger was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book--not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday, she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages (Although Ciara loved that girl to pieces, she really wasn't interested about learning about how Gweong went to have tea on Tuesday for some reason.)

Neville was the only one who seemed to be enjoying it. He was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table. Ciara hadn't gotten a letter ever since her mother scent that dreadful howler, which she was grateful for.