Now, this wasn’t any normal look. It was the Look. You know what I mean.
I got this Look on a normal Thursday evening. I was in the library, studying with my fellow Ravenclaws and best mates, Rose Weasley, Carlos Ramirez, and Nicholas McCarthy.
Yes, studying. Shut up, loser. I’m a Ravenclaw.
“Rosie, I don’t wanna!” I whined, pushing the huge, boring, and deeply loathed History book toward Rose.
“May, you have to.” Rose said without looking up, pushing the book back to me.
Rose was not a normal Weasley. Instead of the trademark red hair, she had more of an auburn color. She was the only Weasley who had ever been Sorted into Ravenclaw, except for her cousin Molly. She had a minimal amount of freckles and was short. Her hair went to her waist in gentle waves. She had warm brown eyes that were usually hidden behind black, square glasses that she didn’t really need.
I stared at the text on the page. After about three seconds, I looked up and started whining again.
“Carlos! I’m bored!” He muttered something about a Potions essay and went back tosleep on his book.
Carlos was like Santa’s Latino elf. He had pointy ears and curly black hair, with brown eyes that always had a mischievous glint in them.
“Nick!” I exclaimed. “Entertain me!” He looked up, grinning.
“We could hit that nice broom closet that’s only a couple corridors down, or my dorm room’s open, if you’re up for it—”
“Pervert,” I muttered, slapping his arm.
Nick had closely cropped black hair and clear blue eyes that made girls melt. He was on the Quidditch team, and played Chaser. I was also on the team, playing Seeker, and let me tell you, it’s no bloody walk in the park. My fellow Seekers on the other teams are Albus Potter extraordinaire, Scorpius Malfoy, and Hailey Crookshanks, all especially good. But I was a pretty good Seeker, and had won us more than a couple games.
Speaking of the name Potter….
I gaped in amazement as James Potter walked into the library. He was in the year above me, and in Gryffindor, but he was good friends with my brother, Nathan.
“Wow,” Rose said to my right. “I didn’t even know he knew where the library was.” Rose is James’ cousin, which is actually how we met. My father is actually on good terms with Harry Potter, who is (obviously) James’ father. My father was invited to their annual Christmas party, and he shoved Nathan and me with the Potters and the Weasleys. Rose and I hit it off immediately.
James sat down two tables down from us, facing me. He pulled out a Transfiguration book and started—wow—reading.
“He’s—he’s reading,” Rose gaped. “In the library!” Carlos raised his head.
“Yes, Rosie, that’s generally what people do in here. Read. In the place full of books.” She glared at him.
“I know that! But look—my cousin—James Potter—reading!”
Nick shrugged. “He can read if he wants. He probably just realized that he has to eventually do something himself in life.” I snickered and Rose glared at Nick. She hates when people accuse James of not doing anything, but even she has to face the fact that it’s true.
I asked her why she’s in denial about it, and she responded with the oh-so-witty comeback, ‘I’m not in denial; I’m just selective about the reality I choose to accept.’
You can see why she’s in Ravenclaw, really.
Rose went back to her book and Nick scribbled away at his essay, but I kept staring at James. Don’t look at me that way! He’s really hot.
Mmm. Yummy eye candy.
And then he looked up. Right at me. I quickly looked down at my book and pretended to be reading, but I couldn’t resist. My curiosity got the best of me, and I looked up at him through my lashes.
He was still staring at me. He saw me and he smirked at me. Then he did something that changed the course of my entire year.
He gave me the Look.
“I still don’t understand why you’re getting so flustered over this.” Rose said.
“He gave me the Look, Rose! Do you have any idea what the Look even is?” I exclaimed. Rose and I were in our dormitory that night. We were lounging in the beanbag chairs that we have in our own personal library.
The short story is, Rose enlarged my closet with an Undetectable Extension charm because I wasn’t using it, and we made copies of the books in the library, and conjured the beanbags. Ergo, the personal library.
“No, I don’t.” Rose sniffed.
“Oh, Merlin.” I muttered. “Okay. The Look is when you give someone a look that means that you want him or her. Like, you want to shag them or get together with them, or you love them. That’s the Look.” I explained. Rose raised her eyebrows.
“So you think that James wants to shag you?” She asked.
“Well, I was kind of hoping for the ‘get together’ option, but, that works too!” I said brightly.
He probably does. Sick perv.
Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking about this. Study.” She said, tossing a book at me. I caught it and turned it over.
“Herbs and Fungi: A Healer’s Guide? Seriously, Rose?” I asked.
“You’re bad in Herbology, May, and we only have so many months until NEWT’s. You have to get studying!” Rose exclaimed.
“Rose, the NEWT’s are a year away! I’m a Ravenclaw and I’m not even studying that far ahead!” I told her.
Rose sniffed and put her nose in the air. “Well, I am. And when I get all O’s and you fail your NWEA’s and end up on the streets looking for a job and a place to stay, I’m going to laugh in your face and show you to a nice refrigerator box in the alley next to my flat.” She said.
Sometimes, I worry about that girl.
“Ravenclaw in possession, look at that pass made by McCarthy, brilliant, Nick, really! Cohan has the Quaffle, he dodges a Bludger sent by Weasley, that’s Fred Weasley, you lot, and passes to Johnson! Johnson avoids Louis Weasley’s obvious foul—call him out, Madame Hooch!—and she SCORES! 50-30 Ravenclaw!”
Madame Hooch blasted her whistle once, seeing the penalty that Louis made. He had blocked off Lydia Johnson, Chaser for Ravenclaw, and nearly unseated her. Nick took the penalty and made the goal easily. I looked away once the game got back in motion and started searching for the Snitch.
It was the first match of the season, Ravenclaw-Gryffindor. If we won, we’d play the winner of the upcoming Hufflepuff-Slytherin match. If we won that, and Gryffindor won against whoever lost the Hufflepuff-Slytherin match, then we’d play Gryffindor again, and if we won that match, then we’d have a chance at the cup.
Trust me. Our team captain, Logan Cohan, has pounded this into our heads since the first training session.
I shadowed Potter, who was flying around the pitch like a hawk, lower than I was. He didn’t appear to have found the tiny golden ball yet, though, so I gave up and in a spontaneous burst of energy, shot up into the clouds and did a 115 degree angle dive toward the ground. As planned, I shot right past Potter’s nose, and he had to pull up quickly to avoid impaling me on his broom handle.
He doesn’t want to do that ‘cause it might result in a penalty.
I have to look that up. Quidditch Through the Ages might have it. Do you get a penalty if a player spears another player on broom handle?
Focus, May. You’re in the middle of a Quidditch match.
Granted, it wasn’t the most important match I’d ever played in, but it was a match all the same.
“And—what is this? Has Larson found something? Potter certainly thinks she has, seeing as he’s tailing her—watch it, May, he’s catching up!” Carlos said into the big purple megaphone. I glanced back quickly to see that Potter was following my reckless dive, thinking that I’d seen the Snitch. I leaned forward into a sharper dive, and I could almost feel him on my tail. The wind whistled past my ears and I grinned to myself—this would be the best Wronsky Feint ever.
And then I saw it. I actually saw the Snitch. It had been in my path the whole time. I glanced back at Potter and saw that we were neck and neck, racing toward the snitch in a dangerous dive. I threw all caution to the wind and lay flat on my broom, heading toward the ground at a 90 degree angle. Straight down.
“THEY’VE SEEN THE SNITCH! SEEKERS LARSON AND POTTER HAVE SEEN THE SNITCH! AND—WHAT’S LARSON DOING—? MAY, YOU’RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF, PULL UP NOW!”
I knew that Potter had pulled up. It wasn’t an important enough match for him to risk his life. But I had lost all control of the broom now, and was about six feet from the ground. If I timed this exactly right, I could make it—
At the last second, I pulled up quickly and dropped off my broom, tackling the Snitch as I went. I fell with a thud onto the grass of the Quidditch Pitch, and for a moment, the air was knocked out of me.
I could hear people screaming, but it all seemed very far away. All I could focus on was the small golden ball desperately trying to free itself from my palm. I held it up so I could get a closer look at it, and the crowd's screams of fear turned to screams of delight. I had caught the Snitch, I had won the match. It all came back into a sharp reality.
"We won," I stated, not loud enough for anyone to hear. "We won!" I said again, louder. "We won! We won, we won, we won!"
The crowd, the Ravenclaws at least, were cheering, cheering my name, and I stood up, holding the Snitch in the air triumphantly. Someone tackled me around the middle and knocked me to the ground again--it was Nick, of course. I laughed and pushed him off, taking my teammate, Marietta's, hand, and pulling myself up.
"Team!" Logan shouted. "Locker rooms. Five minutes!"
I grabbed my broom and trooped off to the locker rooms, my whole team around me and cheering. Nick slung his arm around my shoulders and Marietta and Lydia chattered excitedly to me.
I took a seat with Nick on one side of me and Isaac, one of our Beaters, on the other.
Logan stood at the front of the room, breathing heavily, his eyes excited andapparently at a loss for what to say. He ran his hands through his hair, and finally, as if he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he shouted, “The Ravens won the first match of the season, bitch!”
We all cheered loudly at this. “May, you won the match!” Logan yelled. Nick whooped and ruffled my hair. I pushed him away.
We did a bit more cheering, Nick even going as far as to run up to the vent that connected Ravenclaw locker rooms to Gryffindor locker rooms and screaming, “Lions suck!”
“Alright, everybody, settle down,” Logan said with a grin. “It’s only the first match of the season, we’ve still got to beat Hufflepuff or Slytherin, whichever one wins next match. So until we know for sure who it is, we’ll be practicing as if we were getting ready to beat both teams.”
There was a collective groan at this. Training to beat two teams meant extra practice time, and several people on our team were taking OWLs or NEWTs.
“Hey!” Logan yelled, cutting us off. “If we want to win this year’s cup, we have to work for it! And,” he continued, casting a dubious look at the vent that led to Gryffindor locker rooms and lowering his voice, “I overheard Professor McGonagall talking about there being an extra prize besides just the cup this year.”
“What is it, Logan?” Marietta asked excitedly. We all leant in to hear, and Logan grinned at the attention.
“She said to Professor Flitwick that the winners of the Quidditch Cup this year will be receiving PhoenixPhyre 2000, courtesy of her because it’s her last year here! PhoenixPhyre 2000s! Excellent speed and control, built in braking system, made from top notch wood that only the best use—tested by Oliver Wood, approved—and it’s supposed to be the standard Quidditch World Cup broom next year! Do you know what we could do with those?”
My jaw dropped. “She’s giving us PhoenixPhyre 2000s? Is she insane?” Lydia asked.“Does she realize how many galleons those are per broom? She’d have to be crazy to buy seven!”
Logan shrugged. “I dunno. All I know is that’s the prize. And, guys, I need that broom. It’ll really help me get onto a professional team if I already have the broom I need.”
“We’ll get it for you, Logan.” Isaac said confidently.
“Yeah, this is your last year,” Sam, the other beater, said confidently. “We’ll win it.”