That evening, after doing her homework, Megan pulled out the books and magazines she'd gotten from the library and Wood about broomsticks, to try and help her choose a new one. She sat cross legged in front of the fire with Harry and Ron, while Hermione finished an essay for Arithmancy. The three of them spent over an hour looking over the various models available, their year of commercialisation, comparing speed, design, popularity... but Megan couldn't find a single one that called to her or made her want to buy it. Even the Firebolt (which Ron pointedly tried to convince her to buy, though Megan suspected this was because he was thinking he'd have a chance to borrow it if she did), which she had been intrigued by in Diagon Alley, hadn't even registered with her.

“How about a Nimbus 2001?” Ron suggested.

“Malfoy's got one, I'm not having anything he has,” she said firmly.

“Well, how about another Nimbus?” Harry suggested.

“... No...”

“Why not?”

“... It might sound silly, but I'd feel I'm betraying my old one.”

She sighed and snapped the book shut.

“I can't get into any of them...” she said. “But I'll have to get one soon, or we'll be floored...”

“Why is there so much of a difference between brooms?” Hermione asked curiously.

“They're all built a bit differently, have different speeds, are more or less easy to handle... it's more or less like a car or a bike, I suppose,” Megan said. “I mean, no one is identical, is it?”

“It's getting late,” Harry said, glancing at his watch. “Maybe you should sleep on it. And there's still time to think about it.”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe you're right.”

“I'm turning in, too,” Hermione said, packing her bag and putting it over her shoulder. “Night."

“Night, guys.”

This just wasn't Megan's week. She had another dream the following night, making her even more exhausted than before. She was floating in mid-air, on the slow school broomstick, staring at the scoreboard. Which read three hundred to ten for Slytherin. She couldn't believe her eyes. How was it possible? They couldn't have lost that badly?! Kate, Angelina and Alicia were far too good! And Wood would never have let that many goals in!

“What the...”

Something, maybe instinct, made her look around. Her six team mates were flying before her, looking at her.

“Guys, what happened, how did we lose like this?”

“You're asking us?”

Megan then took a moment to gauge their expressions. And to Megan's horror, they were looking... resentful. Even Fred and George were looking disappointed.

“Guys...?”

The worst of all was Wood. A mixture of anger and disappointment burned in his features. And Megan knew why. Winning meant the world to him...

“You know what this year's Cup meant to me!” he said. “You knew it!”

“Of course I do... b-”

“I trusted you! I was counting on you!”

Tears of pain and confusion stung Megan's eyes.

“But I...”

“And you let us all down.”

And as one being they turned away and made their way towards the ground.

“Guys, wait, I don't understand, why are you saying it's my fault?”

They didn't answer. They didn't even look at her.

“Guys, wait!”

She tried to follow but her broom wouldn't respond. She couldn't steer or move it at all.

“Wood, guys! Wait!”

They walked away into the distance. Megan's eyes snapped open. She heaved a sigh. She was just under pressure, that was all. Not only because of how badly Wood and the team wanted to win, but because the whole school wanted Slytherin overthrown. She rolled over onto her back and sighed. She took a few deep breaths and tried to go back to sleep. But it felt like only a few seconds had gone by when Hermione shook her awake.

Megan wondered how she managed not to fall asleep or yawn all day. Or... almost.

“Megan!”

“What?” Megan gasped, startled.

She had nodded off over lunch, which was almost a miracle given the noisy chatter. Hermione gave her a worried look.

“That dream again?”

Megan rubbed the back of her neck.

“... A dream. Not the same one.”

Her friends seemed to understand that she didn't feel like going into it any more than that, because even though they glanced at her questioningly, they said nothing.

“Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfrey, get yourself excused for the afternoon...” Harry suggested, looking slightly anxious too. “You look dead on your feet.”

Megan sighed.

“I can't... It's Potions this afternoon and Snape will never let me go off sick even if Dumbledore told him.”

They all knew he probably would, but they got the idea.

“You'll be in even worse trouble if you fall asleep in class, though,” Ron said.

“I know...” Megan sighed, and yawned again. “But I don't have much choice. He'll reprimand me either way...”

Her friends glanced at each other.

“Guys, I'll be fine. Relax.” Megan told them. “I'll just try and go to bed early. Let's just hope the teachers don't give us heaps of homework this afternoon...”

Hermione checked her watch.

“Come on then, it's almost time for Potions...”

So they made their way to the dungeons, leaving slightly earlier to give Megan time to stop by the bathroom to spray water on her face in an effort to give her more stamina. It didn't feel quite as efficient as she'd hoped, but with luck would be enough to keep her from falling asleep in Snape's class.

January turned into February, and the next match of the championship was drawing nearer as well. Megan had thankfully managed to catch up on her sleep, even if her problems weren't solved by a long shot yet. She still had to order a new broom, or she wouldn’t be able to play when it was Gryffindor’s turn… as for the pendant, it still hadn’t been cleared of danger. And to make things worse, her anti Dementor lessons weren’t going as well as she’d hoped. She could still cast a bright layer of light, but it drained her and only just kept the Dementor away.

“You’re expecting too highly of yourself, putting too much pressure,” Lupin told her. “You are doing amazingly well for a thirteen year old.”

“… I thought the Patronus would… charge the Dementor or something,” she admitted.

“The true form does do so,” Lupin said. “You’ve made huge progress in a short time. You’ll have no trouble keeping the Dementors at bay long enough to get to safety, should they appear again.”

“You said it’s more difficult if there are more than one,” she reminded.

He smiled.

“I have faith in you. I think you’ve earned a drink. You won’t have had it before…”

He pulled out two bottles of Butterbeer from his bag. Megan took care not to say she had had it before.

“Thank you…” she said.

“So, let’s drink to your Patronus. I’m sure I saw something that looked like wings, that last time.”

Megan drank from her bottle.

“How is it?” he asked.

“It’s, great,” she said quickly, almost forgetting she wasn’t supposed to have tasted it before. “Professor… I was wondering… what’s under the Dementor’s hood…?”

Lupin lowered his bottle, thinking.

“Well… no one who has seen it is able to say, because they only lower their hood to use their worst weapon.”

“… Is that how they make people like them? Suck out their soul…?” Megan asked.

“Yes. It’s known as the Dementor’s Kiss. So I imagine there is something resembling a mouth under there because they clamp their face to yours.”

Megan shuddered. It was creepy to compare something as warm and romantic as a kiss to something as terrible…

“That’s what awaits Sirius Black,” he added. “It was in this morning’s Daily Prophet. The Dementors have permission to perform the kiss if they find him.”

Megan drank to give herself an excuse for her silence. She couldn’t fully decide if she thought Black deserved such a fate… one the one hand, she still didn’t really know if he had betrayed her parents and killed all those people. She wanted to tell Lupin about the conversation in the Three Broomsticks. But she couldn’t without revealing her being in Hogsmeade against the rules. She knew he wouldn’t be too impressed by that.

Megan was still thinking about how it would feel to have your soul sucked out of you when she almost bumped into Professor McGonagall.

“Do watch where you’re going, Potter.” She said.

“Oh… sorry, professor.”

“I was just looking for you.” She said. “Well, here it is, it seems there is nothing wrong with it…”

She handed her the pendant in a small ornate box. She opened it. It was as beautiful as ever.

“You have a good friend, somewhere, Potter.” She said. “I hope you’ve solved your broom problem?”

“Uh… I’m working on it.” She said.

“Good. Do try and win, won’t you? Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me we haven’t won eight years in a row.”

“I will.” Megan said.

Megan still had a problem to solve, though. She didn’t have a broom. Wood had been telling her to order one, but Megan had not found the time or chance to. Nor, really, did she want to. She wanted her old broom back…

“You got it back?” called a voice behind her.

Megan looked around.

“Cedric! What are you doing out here?”

He was coming towards her. It was past nine o'clock, they were both supposed to be in their common rooms.

“I had a bit of homework I had to finish, I was doing some research at the library. I was just on my way back to my common room. You?”

“Anti-Dementor practice.”

She hadn't had a chance to tell him about it, they had both been too busy over the past couple of weeks.

“What? I’ve never even studied the way to counter them!” he said, frowning.

“I asked Lupin.” She said.

“You mean he’s teaching you with a real Dementor?” he asked, alarmed.

“No, of course not. It’s a Boggart. Just as unpleasant, though, believe me.” She said.

“That sounds difficult.”

“It is. But I'd rather not fall off my broom again at the match.” Megan smiled.

“What broom have you got for the game, then?” he asked.

“None, yet,” she admitted. “I miss my old one… I can’t seem to decide on a model… and I can’t just get another Nimbus…”

“Yeah, I remember when I had to change my first broom, a few years ago. It took me ages to decide. But you can’t use a school broom for the match, you’ll never win.”

“… Why do you care, it’s not in your team’s interest to help us win…” she teased.

“It is in as much as it prevents Slytherin from winning. And besides, we’ll have a hard time climbing back up the board.”

“Don’t be silly, you’re a great player…!” Megan protested.

“With the loss we got to Ravenclaw and the difference with Slytherin who beat them, we’d never make it,” He said. “We’d have to beat Slytherin, and that’s not likely if they beat Ravenclaw. So, I thought I could help you win."

Megan, who was about to ask Cedric what he meant, only then noticed he was carrying a broom.

“Cedric, I can’t!” she protested.

“Don’t worry, I’m just lending you mine,” he smiled. “I won’t need it until we play Slytherin. And besides, it’s nice to know I’ll be helping you beat them too.”

She looked at it.

“A Nimbus…”

“Yeah. It’s probably not going to feel quite the same as yours, but…”

It didn't feel quite like buying a new one, since it was just a loan.

“Thanks… and I apologise in advance if anything happens to it.”

“You just worry about your own safety. How are your lessons coming along?”

“Well, professor Lupin is confident… we’ll just have to see, I guess.”

There was a silence.

“Well, I suppose we had better get going, before we get into trouble.” Cedric said. “Good night, Megan.”

“Good night, Cedric… and thanks.”

He squeezed her fingers and disappeared round a corner. Megan waited for her heart to calm down a little and headed up the stairs to her common room.

Megan used the next Quidditch practices to get more familiar with the broom. Cedric had been right, it felt slightly different. When Wood asked her where she’d got it, she said a friend had lent it to her. Wood was tense enough as it was. A few days before the match, Megan was polishing it with her Servicing Kit. She didn’t want to give it back to him damaged if she could help it. Hermione was working again, and they had patched up since the pendant had returned, though Megan had never truly been angry at her. She was just looking out for her, after all. Megan was sitting in the chair nearest to the table she was at. She looked up and glanced at the huge workload Hermione had in front of her. She also noticed how tired she looked.

“Hermione, how do you get through all this?”

“I just work hard,” she said, tiredly, her quill scurrying across the parchment.

“Why not just drop a subject or two?”

“Oh, no, it’s all too interesting, really I –”

Just then, a loud shout from the boy’s dormitories rung through the room, and Ron came hurtling down.

“Ron, what’s the matter?” Megan asked, jumping to her feet.

She saw he was carrying a bed sheet.

“LOOK!” he shouted, pointing to the sheet at Hermione. “LOOK WHAT YOUR BEAST DID!”

Hermione looked terrified at the furious expression on Ron’s face. Megan however, though unsettled, stepped forwards.

“RON!” Megan shouted. “Calm down. What is it?”

“What do you think this is?” he asked furiously.

Megan glanced too. There was a red blotch that looked awfully like…

“Blood!” Ron yelled. “Blood! And Scabbers is gone! And let’s not forget, this was on the floor!”

He thrust a few ginger hairs onto the table.