An Auora of Mystery

Chapter 2

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Bludgers and Bogarts

After the confusing episode at breakfast, Lily posted back Hogwarts, using the strangely docile owl, to inform them that she’d be love to go to school there next term, but that she had a few questions. Fairly quickly she received a letter back from them that read:

Dear Ms. Evans,

            I am delighted that you will be joining us at Hogwarts come next term and I must confess that I was somewhat overwhelmed by your fluster of questioned. If your schedule would comply, I would like to take you to get your school things on August 24^th. I believe that I will be able to answer all of your questions there. If the date listed previously does not work, I would be elated if you post me back as soon as possible. Otherwise, I look forward to meeting you at Number 8 Privit Drive, Little Whinging, , on August 24^th.

Yours Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

            After reading this, Lily quickly consulted her mum and dad about the date. They said that it would work, although, unfortunately, they would not be able to join Lily and the Headmaster as they already had plans. Lily, however, was not too disappointed about this. In fact, she had sort of hoped for this. Perhaps wanting to be independent was something that came with being almost 12. Or maybe it was because she was a Libra. But, whatever the reason, she wanted to experience the magical world for herself.

***

            On August twenty-fourth, after hours of restlessly waiting, Lily heard the doorbell ring. Lily jumped off the couch, where she had been examining the Hogwarts seal for the hundredth time, sprinted down to the front door and opened it up to see an elderly man with half moon spectacles, a long grey beard, a pointed hat starry hat, and, what looked like, a long-sleeved purple dress.

            He was not at all how Lily had expected him to be. She had expected him to be somewhat shorter, with no beard and more scholarly looking. She had also imagined him to be in normal clothes, although now it seemed crazy that he would be wearing anything else. It had, after all, said on her supplies list that they would be required to wear robes.

            “Hello,” he said pleasantly, “Lily, I presume?”

            “Ye-ea-ah,” Lily managed stammer.

            “I’m Professor Dumbledore.” He said, holding out his hand, which Lily shook. “Are your parents home, Lily?” he then asked kindly.

            Lily shook her head, wondering with a pang whether it horrible that her parents weren’t there.

            “Alright then,” Dumbledore said, “Why don’t we get going then?”

            Lily nodded obediently, grabbed the key, locked the door, and followed Dumbledore down the driveway, around the corner. They had walked for about five minutes when a question occurred to Lily.

            “Errmmm…sir, how exactly are we going to get to…errrr…Diagon Alley?” she asked tentatively.

            “Oh did I not tell you already?” Dumbledore asked, chuckling airily. “I’m sorry. Well I’ve made a portkey and hidden it a few blocks from here. A portkey is a magical transportation device that transports you from one location to another. Ahh…here it is.” Dumbledore said, coming to stand in front of an old tin can. “On the count of three what I want you to do, is reach down and touch the tin can, one finger will do. 1…2…3…”

            Lily reached down and touched the can. Then, with an uncomfortable jerk, she began to spin and spin and spin. It seemed like hours before she felt her feet touch solid ground. After landing, and quickly after, falling down, it took her a few moments to realize where she was.

            She rubbed her eyes and looked around, realizing that she was in a bar. She stood up and began to look around. The room was rather dark and packed with peoples, witches and wizards she supposed, talking cheerfully. She felt a finger tap her shoulder and she jumped. She turned around to see a Dumbledore.

            “I’m going to go talk to Tom, he’s the innkeeper here at the Leaky Cauldron,” Dumbledore explained, “you can hang your coat up in the closet, find a table, and make yourself comfortable.”

            Lily went over to the wardrobe, opened up, and gasped as her sister’s body rolled out, covered in blood.

***

            Things were starting to get hectic at the Prewett house, come the end of August. Molly was still obsessing over Arthur’s lack of letters and she was starting to feel overwhelmed by the enormous amount of Head Girl duties she’d have once term started. Gideon was busy writing tons of letters to his friend with whom he was planning to start a joke shop. Fabian was thinking of the upcoming Quidditch match and nothing else. In his head, he was comparing and contrasting the teams and their histories and thinking of every possible outcome of the match. He had come to the conclusion that the Cannons had a better chance of winning, however, with a bit of luck and support from the home team, the wasps would have a chance as well.

            Mrs. Prewett was the only one in the family who had the children’s educations on her mind. She was worried about finding a time to find to go into town and buy their school supplies. After today, the children’s schedules were booked solid, but she couldn’t possibly get out today, she had about a thousand and one things to do. ‘But maybe Victor could,’ she thought to herself.

            “Honey?” she asked, across the otherwise quiet table.

            Mr. Prewett, who was pretending to read the paper while really preoccupied by all the work he had, jumped, startled at the interruption to his thoughts. “Yes?” he asked with a little more asperity than he had anticipated.

            “Would you mind taking the kids into Diagon Alley today to buy their school supplies? I have so much work around the house to do.” She asked.

            “You know I can’t do that, dear. I have to get some files in, deliver a report to Quimsy, write a speech, speak to the editors of the prophet and about a million other things!” he replied exasperatedly. “Besides, Molly’s seventeen now, she can look after the boys.”

            The result of this comment was instantaneous. Molly rolled her eyes. Truth be told, she couldn’t look after her two brothers no matter how hard she tried. The tighter she held her grip the more trouble they seemed to get into. Fabian and Gideon exchanged gleeful looks; they loved when their dear sister was left in charge of them. Mrs. Prewett looked doubtful.

            “Unless you had a better idea,” Mr. Prewett said, interpreting Mrs. Prewett’s doubtful look correctly.

            Mrs. Prewett sat there thinking for a few seconds before saying, “No, that’s a good idea. Molly, you can take them and mind you keep them out of trouble.”

            Molly was about to protest to this when her father cut her off.

            “And you two,” he said, pointing his finger warningly at Fabian and Gideon, “stay out of trouble. If Molly tells me you’ve put one toe out of line, Fabian, you won’t be going to the Quidditch game and you, Gideon, won’t get your racing broom.”

            Molly smiled smugly at Fabian and Gideon, who merely glowered at her.

            “You might want to leave now,” chimed Mrs. Prewett, “Come lunch time and you won’t be able to walk in that place. I think there’s still some floo powder by the fireplace, Molly dear.”

            Molly obediently walked over to the fire place, dipped her hand in the old tin, scooped up some floo powder, and threw it into the fireplace. She looked around the corner to see her brother’s right behind her. She then stepped into the fireplace and clearly said “Diagon Alley.” She felt the familiar swooping sensation as she spun around and around, fireplaces whirling around in every direction.

            When she arrived in Diagon Alley, she was surprised to hear a girl crying very close by. Molly quickly wiped the soot from around her eyes and looked up to see a girl with red hair crying not 10 feet away over what seemed to be another girl’s dead body. She quickly walked over to comfort the girl.

            “Who was she?” she asked the redhead when she got there.

            “My sister,” the girl sobbed. “And I feel horr…horr…horrible, when I left this mor-or-ning I told her I ha-ated her and now she’s de-ad!”

            “How did she die?” Molly asked.

            “I don’t know!” the girl sobbed even harder. “I just found her here, de-e-ad!”

            Molly glanced at a half-opened wardrobe a couple of feet away, and to the dead girl’s body lying just feet beneath it. She turned again to the redhead and asked tentatively, “when did you find her?”

            “I was ope-en-ning the wardrobe to get my co-at and she came ro-olling ou-ut!”

            “I want you to do one thing for me,” Molly said, thankful that the girl’s sister was not really dead. “I want you to go over there and touch your sister.”

            The girl obediently walked over to her sister and tried to touch her, however, her hand just went right through. The girl looked up at Molly, the tears on her face drying and a confused look now plastered onto it. “What happened to her?” she asked.

            “You see,” Molly said, in the same explanatory voice she always used when talking to little children. “Your sister isn’t really dead, she’s a Bogart.”

            “A what?”

            “A Bogart, a shape-shifter. Bogarts shift shapes to depict whatever they think will scare the person around them more. It’s a defense mechanism. Sort of like how different lizards grow big and dragon like to scare away their potential attackers. However, theirs a fairly easy spell to get rid of a Bogart. You just think of something hilarious, point your wand at it, and say ‘Ridikulous!’” she explained.

            “I don’t have a wand.”

            “Oh okay, that changes things up a bit.” Molly said. “Would you mind standing back so I can get rid of it for you?”

            The girl nodded and stepped back.

            “Ridikulus!” Molly bellowed. All the blood from the dead girls head disappeared. She then climbed to her feet looking quite well, went over ago and hugged her. The girl with red hair didn’t even smile, she merely looked confused. ‘Uh oh,’ thought Molly, ‘that’s not going to get this Bogart away anytime soon. C’mon girl, smile.’

            The girl however did not smile. She just stood their looking shocked as her sister hugged her—she didn’t even hug her back.

            Now the Bogart turned on Molly. It shifted into Arthur making out with a pretty blonde girl that Molly recognized as the Ravenclaw prefect. Even though she knew that it was just a Bogart, her heart sunk a little, and she was sure that her face had reddened a little. She raised her wand and said, in a firm voice “Ridikulus!” and Arthur and the blonde girl vanished from sight.

            “Nice one sis,” came Fabian’s voice from the corner of their room, “didn’t think you had it in you to play a harmless joke like that. What was that you used?”

            “I didn’t…” Molly began, but Gideon cut her off.

            “But just remember,” he said, in a mockingly wise voice, “that no matter how far you curse them, the image of Arthur snogging that girl will be ever engraved in your mind.”

            Molly felt her face turn a deeper red, but calmly said, “Shut up you two! And for your information that was a Bogart not the real thing, so I have nothing to worry about.”

            “But obviously you do if you even thought about it in the first place.” Fabian said, annoyingly.

            “Oh my God, Fabian, your such an idiot…err…hello, Professor,” Molly said, her face no red from embracement instead of anger. For when she turned back to check on Lily, she saw both Lily and Professor Dumbledore staring at her.

            “Good day, Ms. Prewett. I trust you’ve had a good summer?” Professor Dumbledore pleasantly.

            “Yes…errmm…very good. How about you, sir?” She asked, regaining some of her composure.

            “It’s been very pleasant thank you. Ms. Evans here was just telling me about how you helped her in coping with a nasty Bogart. Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Prewett.”

            “No problem, sir.” Molly said, her face still pink.

            “Well, I think we’ll be off. Lily here has a lot to buy in a very short period of time. Until school then!” he said, waving back at the three Prewetts.

            “Until school!” Gideon repeated.

            “We’ll have a lot of fun!” Fabian said, smiling.

            “Oh yes, I expect we will,” said the headmaster, chuckling.

***

            Lily followed Dumbledore along the crowded streets of Diagon Alley, jogging to keep up with his long strides. She was thinking back to the Bogart. Why had that older girl looked so taken aback when she was surprised at being hugged by her sister? Was it so strange that her and Petunia hadn’t hugged each other since they were young?

            “I thought that we should get your robes from Madame Malkin’s first. Is that okay with you?”

            Lily nodded, expressionless. She didn’t know what Madame Malkin’s was—well, it was a store to buy robes in she supposed, but she couldn’t very well compare it to any other place.

Before she knew what she was doing or where she was, Lily was standing on a stool while a tall witch in deep purple robes was taking measurements on Lily. Next to her, there was a small skinny boy with jet-black messy hair and glasses standing on a stool while another seamstress was working on his robes. Lily noticed that he was peering on to her list of measurements.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “you’re only 53 ½ inches tall? You’re really short!”

“I’m short?” Lily replied, sizing him up, “your not that much taller than me.”

“So? Boys grow at a later age than girls. So, HA!”

Lily rolled her eyes. “They mature a lot more slowly too.”

Both Dumbledore and the boy’s mother chuckled appreciatively. This shut the boy up, for a while. Then, as the seamstress was hemming the robes that Lily was modeling, he spoke again.

“Your eyes are green,” he said shortly.

“I know.” Lily replied.

“Your eyes are REALLY green,” he said again.

“I already know,” Lily said, starting to get really annoyed.

“I’m James Potter.” He said simply.

“Nice to know,” Lily replied, looking outside the window. There were a group of giggling girls passing who looked to be a little older than Lily. There was also a group of younger children all wearing light blue robes, with the word “Gobstones” on the back. Lily repeated the word out loud.

“What?” James Potter asked her.

“What?” Lily asked, turning around to him, startled.

He smiled his same cocky smile he smiled every time he had tried to put Lily down. “I asked you what your name was and you said ‘Gobstones.’” He explained.

Just then, Lily’s seamstress handed her two black and white stripped bags that said “Madame Malkin’s” on them. Lily grabbed the bags and followed Dumbledore out of the door.

“What’s your name?” James called after her.

“Lily Evans,” she replied. But all that James heard was “Evans.”

***

           

            The next stop in Diagon Alley for James was the Apothecary. He quietly followed his mother out of Madame Malkin’s and into a store the smelt like frog spawn and cat liver. Going to Diagon Alley did not warrant the excitement that James supposed it would’ve if he had not been counting down hours until the Quidditch Match the next day. The lighting in the Apothecary was dark and the air was thick and steamy.

            Up ahead, James saw a woman and her son arguing over which scales to buy.

            “No mum,” James heard the boy say, “I don’t want the bronze scales, lets just get the brass ones like the list says.”

            “I will not have my son go gallivanting off to school with second-rate scales. No, you’ll get the bronze ones they’re more precise. I’ll also see if I can have the Black Family Crest put on them before you leave.”

            “Mum, I’m sure I’ll do well in potions without the more precise scales or the crest.” The boy tried to reason with her.

            “No. I will not hear of it. I can only imagine what the other family’s would say if the Blacks did not give their son top quality equipment.” The woman said indignantly.

            “Oh, so you’re only doing this for yourself—I should’ve guessed. You’re doing this so that your reputation won’t be ruined.” The boy scoffed.

            “I’m doing this so that my idiot of a son won’t make his family look bad.”

            “Bronze scales won’t fix that,” the boy muttered.

            “What did you just say?” the mother roared.

            “Nothing, nothing,” her son said curtly, “just buy the bronze one’s and put the damn crest on them if you like.” With that, the boy stormed out of the store, knocking down a row of potions as he went. Surprisingly, as the boy heard glass shatter, James could’ve sworn he say a smile flick across the boys otherwise solemn face.

            “You’ll be paying for that?” the clerk asked the boy’s mum.

            “But, of course,” the mother said trying to keep her voice airy so as to hide the scornfulness.

            After the mother left, James turned to his mum.

            “Mum,” he asked tentatively, “can I have bronze scales?”

            “Do you want the Black Family Crest on them too?” asked, her eyebrows raised.

            “You want me to do well in school don’t you?” James pleaded.

            “I expect you to do fine in Potions without the top-notch equipment.” told her son.

            “But that boy gets them.” James protested “And it’s not like we can’t afford them, I know we can. We’re rich aren’t we?”

            “Our money is none of your business James Potter.” His mum told him with asperity. “Just because we can afford something doesn’t mean we should buy it. You don’t really want the bronze scales, you just want to be the best and have things better than everyone else. You see that boy out there? His mum probably gets him top-quality everything. Does he like it? No! He just wants to fit in like every other kid.”

            “Those who go with the flow will achieve nothing throughout their entire lives. Those who stand out, will be remembered forever.” James said.

            “You know for a fact that I’m not against standing out. I just want you to do it with your own talents rather than our financial aid. And be careful of the image your giving yourself. If you went to school with those scales, you’d be remembered as the spoiled little rich kid who can get anything he wants from his parents.”

            “No I wouldn’t—and even if I would, I don’t care. I wan those scales.” James whined.

            “If you want them that badly, the boy and his mum probably aren’t too far away—go live with them and get those scales.”

            “Nah,” James gave in, “having a mum that ugly isn’t worth a pair of bronze scales.”

            After purchasing James’ Brass scale, cauldron and ingredients, James and his mum left the apothecary and went to the owlery to buy James owl—an eagle owl to be named “Alcander.”

***

            Twelve o’clock loomed ever nearer—three hours to go, two hours to go, forty-five minutes to go. Gideon sat in front of the fireplace, trunk all packed and trying to read Quidditch through the Ages but was looking at the clock more than he was actually reading. Twice, he had gotten up to see if it was working properly. It was strange, when you wanted time to go by quickly, it would seem to loom on every minute, but when you wanted it to freeze at a particular moment, the moment would be gone before you knew it.

            With half an hour to go, Gideon came downstairs.

            “What did you think of Molly’s Bogart yesterday?”

            Fabian shrugged, “I dunno, I really don’t. For Molly’s sake, I want to believe there’s just been some mistake, but I talked to Arthur at the end of the year and he said he was staying home throughout the whole summer and that he’d have a lot of time on his hands. Also, I saw him talking to that blond girl a couple times last year and she was flirting with him. Since the blond likes him, I don’t blame him if he chooses her over Molly—I mean, she’s hot.”

            “But don’t you want him to stay with Molly?” Gideon asked.

            “I dunno…” Fabian shrugged. “Besides, I’ve got my own romantic problems to worry about right now. I can’t fight for anyone else.”

            “What?! You’re not going out with anyone.” Gideon said.

            “No, right now I’m not. But, Barry lives next to Serena Wellington who’s inviting Blair Woodson over for summer. He’ll take Serena, I’ll take Blair.”

            “No way, Blair has a boyfriend.”

            “Correction, Blair had a boyfriend. She doesn’t right now. And with a little luck, I’ll be the lucky man pretty soon.”

            “Yeah right,” Gideon scoffed.

            “Care to make a wager on that?” Fabian asked.

            “10 Galleons,” Gideon said, holding out his hand.

            “Deal,” Fabian replied, shaking it, “But I best be off, it’s 12:04 and I’ve got some serious wooing to do so that I can get me-self 10 Galleons and a lass.” With that Fabian took the jar of Floo Powder, through some into the fire place, stepped in himself, shouted “The George Plantation!” and whooshed out of sight.

            “Hey! You took the Floo Powder with you!” Gideon said indignantly after Fabian had disappeared.

***

            After climbing what felt like the one millionth step, James looked up at his father. “How much farther?” he asked for the third time.

            “James, I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again.” His father said, “You see that box way up there? That’s the Top Box. Anyways, you’ve climbed these steps before, you should remember what it feels like.”

            “I know, but I swear it was longer last time.”

            “That’s what you say every time,” his father chuckled.

            After fifteen more minutes of walking up steps, James and Mr. Potter finally reached the top box and went inside. They weren’t surprised to see that it was nearly empty—they were, after all one hour early to the game. ‘Oh well,’ though James, ‘at least we get first dibs on the food!’

            Apart from the great view, James’ favorite part of sitting in the top box was the free food. After loading up his dish to it’s maximum capacity, he went to sit down next his dad and stare at the screen that was now reading out advertisements. James saw an ad for omnioculars and he remembered that at the last match he had gone to, the boy sitting next to him had a pair and that they looked really cool.

            “Ooo, dad!” he exclaimed, “can I get a pair of those?”

            “They only sell souvenirs on the first level, so if you want to run all the way down their sure.”

            “Dang it!” James said, sinking back into his chair. His dad handed him a program, which he took gratefully. He couldn’t wait for the match to start, or at least for somebody else to get there. Finally, a he was watching score against Wrigley in the last Canons vs. Wasps match, a boy came through the door.

            “One thousand, four-hundred and fifty-two,” a good-looking boy with dark hair exclaimed.

            “1,452 what?” James asked

            “Stairs,” the boy replied.

            “Seriously that’s all?” James said, “Doesn’t it feel like every time you come here there’s more stairs than last time?”

            “Err…this is my first time here.” The boy admitted.

            “Oh,” James said, “no wonder I don’t recognize you. Do you go to Hogwarts? What’s your name?”

            “Yeah, and my name’s Fabian” the boy answered, “how about yourself?”

            “Yep…or, erm, I will be next term and my name’s James.” James answered, “What house are you in?”

            “Gryffindor—fourth year.”

            “I’m going to be in Gryffindor,” James said confidently.

            “You’re awfully full of yourself.” Fabian noted.

            “Well, I mean to say, I’m going to be in Gryffindor or I’m going to transfer schools.” James clarified. “All the other houses suck—Ravenclaw’s are too smart, Hufflpuff’s are too stupid, and Slytherins, well, let’s just say I’d rather die than be in Slytherin.”

            “You hate Slytherin that much, huh?” Fabian asked and James nodded. “Well, that’s not uncommon. But I say, everyone’s got their good side. I mean, I’m not all matey with them or anything, but I don’t pick fights with them either.”

            “Bullshit!” said a boy about the same age as Fabian who had just came in the door.

            Fabian smiled, “For your information, Barry, I happen to be an avid peacemaker.”

            Barry snorted. “Then why, mate, were you one of the only two students to ever receive a letter from Pringle informing them of school rules?”

            “Because Pringle loves me and he wants me to stay safe.”

            This caused both Barry and James to burst out laughing. James had no idea who Pringle was or what his sending Fabian rules meant, but Fabian’s statement was hilarious.

***

            The suite was basically full now and the match was about to start—the commentator from the Media Booth beneath them had begun to

            “Welcome to Wimbourne Stadium! Today the match is your very own Wasps [there were “cheers”] vs. the Canons coming here from Chudley! [there were “boos”] The ground is hard giving the players a nice hard kickoff, and would you look at the weather—perfect seeing conditions: a cloudless sky and a not too bright sun.” said the Commentator. “Oh and look! The players are coming out onto the field. On the Cannons we have Wrigley, Burns, Ford, Taylor, Smith, Anderson, and…TRIST!” he said this elongating the seeker’s name. “And on your very own Wimbourne Wasps we have BEYER…WINTHROP…BRADFORD……BAGMAN…DOBBS…and…FLORIAN!” he said while leaving space in between each of the players names to leave the fans room for cheering—Bagman got an extra loud cheer. “And referring we have Franck Solomon here with us all the way from !”

            “Solomon has blown his whistle and they’re off. Bradford takes the Quaffle and quickly passes to Hutchinson who passes back to Bradford who keeps it for one…two…three…seconds before passing to Winthrop who quickly passes to Bradford who passes back to . I must say that our chasers are fairly old-fashioned and predictable. [there were boos]   They’re following the same pattern. I’ll wager that will wait three seconds before passing to .” However, right after the commentator said that, passed to Bradford who shot and scored. The crowd cheered. “Haha, I was just saying that to trick you, Wrigley!” the commentator said unconvincingly.

            “This commentator sucks…” Barry George muttered.

            “That commentator is my dad.” Said a girls voice from behind Barry. He turned around to see a gorgeous girl with silvery blond hair and bright blue eyes.

            “Serena! Fancy seeing you her! I didn’t mean this commentator sucks per se…” Barry said, shifting uncomfortably.

            “Then what exactly did you mean by the word ‘sucks’?” Serena asked.

            Barry turned bright red and Serena laughed.

            “I was only joking, the commentators not my dad,” Serena said, “but I do know him, and so do you. Otto Bagman.”

            “Psh…how the hell did he get to be commentator?” Barry asked.

            “Same way he got on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, probably—because his brother is Ludo Bagman. God that kid sucks at anything to do with Quidditch. At least he’s a seventh year this year—we’ll only have to suffer one more year of being embarrassed by Slytherin.”

            A pretty girl with golden blond hair and ebony eyes laughed behind him.

            “Blair, m’dear, you didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

            “What are you talking about Prewett?” Blair said, “I told you at least a million times that I was coming to the match.

            “But you didn’t tell me you’d be in here.”

            “Well, you should have guessed. Did you not think I was wealthy enough?” Blair asked flirtatiously.

            “Of course not, it just so happens that I saved you a seat.” Fabian said, picking up James and moving him one row forward and gesturing towards the newly vacant seat. He handed her into it and she sat down.

***

            The score was now “20-50” to the Cannons, and James had just seen something that made his heart sink—Trist and Florien were both diving for the snitch. The only problem was, Florien was about a mile behind and Trist was a much better flyer than Florien. There was no way that Florien would catch up.

            Bagman had noticed this too, and James could see that Bagman was doing some very quick thinking. Then Bagman flew towards a Bludger that was headed for Burns, beater bat raised high up in the air and hit the Bludger with all his strength towards Trist. The Bludger caught Trist on unawares and hit him square on the back. Florien flew past Trist and caught the snitch, winning the game and securing Wimbourne’s place in the Quidditch Championships.

            Within a few seconds, Otto Bagman’s voice rang out over the speakers. “Wait? What’s happened? Oh, 150 points to the Wasps. Now either the superb chasers on the Wasps team have scored 15 goals in a very short period of time.”

            “You said, that they were ‘old fashioned.’ Now they’re ‘superb?’” Fabian muttered to Blair, causing her to laugh.

            “Or, Florien has got the snitch.” The  was a pause, “Oh and there was a Bludger hit by Bagman that err…well, you saw what happened.”

            James rolled his eyes—Barry was right, Otto Bagman did suck. ‘Oh well,’ James thought, ‘at least we’ve won the game.’

***

A/N: Well, there you have it, chapter number two. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to be doing this—if I’m going to wait until I finish the book to post chapters or if I’m going to just post them when I finish them. Although, if I don’t get any reviews, I’m going to guess that nobody likes this story and there’s no point in me posting it. Right now the title of the next chapter is either called New Beginnings or As Summer Draws to an End but those will probably change…

I thought I’d share this picture with you. It’s the one I almost used to as the pic for the next chapter. Brownie Points for whoever can guess who they are and which one’s which: Click Here