[Chapter Seven: Not Quite a Punishment. Edited.]

I walked along with Professor McGonagall and Harry – well, Harry and I sort of jogged after her. She was walking awfully fast, and we were eleven, with tiny little legs. We looked at each other, the fear on his face mirroring mine. He didn't want to be expelled. I didn't know what I wanted – but that didn't matter, anyway. What I wanted never mattered.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor McGonagall didn't say a word to us. She wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with us trotting miserably behind her. Professor McGonagall stopped outside a classroom, opened the door, and poked her head inside.

"Excuse me, Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Wood for a moment?"

Wood, a burly older boy, came out of Flitwick's class looking confused.

'Follow me, you three,' said Professor McGonagall, and we marched on up the corridor, Wood looking curiously at Harry and me.

Yes, hello reasonably attractive male, I punched my brother in the face and Harry flew around the grounds illegally, nice to make your acquaintance.

"In here." Professor McGonagall pointed us into a classroom which was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard. "Out, Peeves!" she barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and swooped out cursing. Professor McGonagall slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys. "Potter, this is Oliver Wood. Wood – I've found you a Seeker."

Wood's expression changed from puzzlement to delight.

"Are you serious, Professor?"

"Absolutely," said Professor McGonagall crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

Harry nodded silently.

Why am I here? Harry's getting not-expelled and good news, and I haven't been addressed yet.

It's not all about you, you self-centred cow.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Wood. "Didn't even scratch himself. Charlie Weasley couldn't have done it," Wood was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Wood's captain of the Gryffindor team," Professor McGonagall explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Wood, now walking around Harry and staring at him. "Light – speedy – we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor – a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can bend the first-year rule. Heaven knows, we need a better team than last year. Flattened in that last match by Slytherin, I couldn't look Severus Snape in the face for weeks ..." Professor McGonagall peered sternly over her glasses at Harry. "I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you." Then she suddenly smiled. "Your father would have been proud," she said.

Would have? Not will be? I didn't know Harry didn't have a father.

"He was an excellent Quidditch player himself."

Harry beamed, although he looked wholeheartedly confused. McGonagall sent him and Wood away, to discuss Quidditch and finally turned to me. I had no real idea of what Quidditch was, myself. I knew it involved brooms and flying, but that was it.

"Miss Malfoy," She looked overwhelmingly strict. "I'm sure you know better than to go around hitting people."

"I-I do, Professor." I could barely hear my own voice. "I'm sorry."

"However, it was a very good punch." I looked up from my feet in amazement. She was still looking strict, but her face was less severe. "I'll excuse it this time, but only because he's your brother. I will not be forgiving next time, Miss Malfoy. Trust you remember that."

"You're not going to expel me?" I asked, looking up at her and biting my lip.

She frowned, "Do you want to be expelled?"

"I... I don't know, Professor."

"You may go, Willow. Trust – if you do figure out what it is you want, do let me know."

I stumbled out of the room, feeling as confused as I did when I entered.

Over Dinner, Harry told Ron, awed, about how he'd somehow managed to become the Gryffindor Seeker. I still didn't know what a seeker was – but neither did Harry. At least I could be ignorant in peace. Ron was thrilled, but Harry was trying to hush him. It was apparently a secret.

Am I any good at keeping secrets? I've never had one.

While Harry was talking about his giant fluke of success, he managed to sneak food onto my plate. He was persistent, I'd give him that.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?" I was surprised to see my brother standing behind us, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle again.

"You're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly.

I thought he needed new glasses, because Crabbe and Goyle were anything but little. I figured if Goyle sat on me, I'd die.

"I'd take you on any time on my own," said Draco. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only – no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling round. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Draco looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.

"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

"Fine." Ron said bluntly.

"And haven't you been expelled yet?" Draco grimaced at me. I wanted to say something smart, like they do in Hospital Love when people are rude, but I was far too slow, and Draco had walked away.

"What is a wizard's duel?" said Harry to Ron. "And what do you mean, you're my second?"

"Well, a second's there to take over if you die," said Ron casually, getting started at last on his cold pie. Catching the look on Harry's face, he added quickly, "but people only die in proper duels, you know, with real wizards. The most you and Malfoy'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. Neither of you knows enough magic to do any real damage. I bet he expected you to refuse, anyway."

"And what if I wave my wand and nothing happens?"

"Throw it away and punch him on the nose," Ron suggested.

There was a loud coughing noise, then panic. A few seats down the table from me, Seamus Finnigan was choking on his meal. His face had started to turn blue – his friends seemed at a loss. I instinctively pointed my wand at him.

"Anapneo."

How do I know that spell?

Seamus coughed up the chicken bone which had been the culprit of the attack, took several deep breaths and stared at me, eyes wide, across the table.

"Thank... you." He coughed at me. I tried to smile, but I was too tired, so I sort of grimaced at him. He was too busy breathing again to notice I was socially inept, though. Which was good.

Dumbledore smiled at me and inclined his head towards the hourglasses that record the house points. Several rubies fell into it.

I JUST GOT FIVE POINTS!

Unless that means I just lost five points...

Oh man, I have no idea.

"Willow. Willow. Willow. Willow." I turned around to see Ron's frustrated face. "Finally! Are you good at healing charms?"

I shrugged.

"That was wicked. You're coming with us to the duel tonight. In case we both get hurt."

I didn't answer, but it was an apparent yes. Harry put some more food on my plate.

"You'll need to be strong for it, then."

"I – I'm fine."

Harry looked at me with stubborn yet gentle eyes. They were bright green in colour, which contrasted with his dark hair. "You haven't eaten since you came here."

"Excuse me," Hermione said and I was grateful for the distraction.

"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to Harry. "I couldn't help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying and you mustn't go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you'll lose Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be. It's really very selfish of you."

"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.

"Goodbye," said Ron.