Hogwarts Year 1

Author's Note: There are grammatical and punctuation errors in the correspondence portion of this chapter that are intentional, dear readers, reflecting the maturity level and mood of the eleven-year-old pen friends. They are entirely my own fault and not that of the lovely admins here at TPP.

Chapter 7: Year 1 at Hogwarts

1989 – 1990

Annie rode her bike aimlessly through Ottery and its surroundings, mindlessly searching for something to do. She hadn't been this bored since... well, maybe never. It was nearly impossible now to recall life before she had met her best friends, after all. She hadn't gone three weeks like this without seeing them since they had met four years ago.

On the far side of town – as far as she could get from her house and still be in Ottery – she began to hear an unfamiliar sound: a mechanical... buzzing sort of noise. Sometimes louder and slightly higher pitched, other times lower and rumbling. Maybe a saw? she wondered. Finally, something remotely interesting! She sped up to search for it, letting the sound guide her.

She soon reached a large, open field out past the edge of town. Three boys were standing together not far from her, watching as a fourth was riding about on the source of the buzzing: a small motorbike built for riding on a dirt track. She recognized it from a book she had read about them once. She'd read that there were tracks for dirt bikes elsewhere with jumps and hills for them to launch off of. Of course, here in Ottery, there was nothing so exciting as a great flat field at the base of Stoatshead Hill. Annie stood watching them for a while, transfixed.

The current rider's turn must have been over, because he returned to the group and climbed off. Annie noticed at that moment something unusual about the boy: he had hair almost, but not quite, like Fred's and George's. It was flaming red, but it stood up stiff and bushy on his head, not lying down soft and straight like her friends' did. Annie took it as a favorable sign anyway and pedaled over to meet them.

One of the onlookers noticed her approach. "Hey, kid – get lost," he called out.

Another turned to look for the source of the disturbance and echoed his mate's sentiment. "Yeah, go home."

The first boy was further emboldened by the fact his friend followed his lead. "A baby like you belongs safe at home with mummy!" He laughed derisively along with the others.

The last comment got Annie's dander up. "I'm not a baby! I'm eleven. And I've got just as much right to be here as you."

"Oh, really?" asked the boy, taking a few steps intended to be threatening toward her.

Annie let her bike drop, lifting her head defiantly, standing her ground. The boy then halted his forward movement, apparently unaccustomed to being stood up to.

The red-headed boy, still holding the bike, finally weighed in. "Hey, kid! What's your name?"

"Annie Jones," she answered proudly. She wasn't scared of these boys, and she wanted them to know it.

The first boy's mouth dropped open in surprise. "A girl?" he cried in disbelief.

The second boy, seizing upon the mistake of his friend, pounced immediately. "You were gonna pick a fight with a girl!" He laughed in an unfriendly way.

The red-headed boy's eyes narrowed, as if he recognized her name. "Aren't you the kid who beat seven shades of shit out of Tim Molloy?" he asked her.

The three other boys stopped their teasing of each other and quietly looked at her with newfound interest. Apparently, news of the incident at the schoolyard had spread quickly. Annie wondered if the story had included the reason for her attack on the bully.

"Some people don't know when to keep their mouths shut," she offered with a shrug.

The three sheep, for Annie had now pegged them as the followers of the group, turned to look at the red-headed boy to see his reaction to this girl's unlikely claim.

"Yeah, that kid sure has a big mouth. And a big fat arse to match," the boy said as he turned to his flock with a smile.

They understood it was expected of them to laugh and did so promptly.

The leader looked back at Annie and introduced himself. "My name is Stephen, and these gits are Geoff, Tom, and Mike. Come on, Geoff – your turn," he said as he handed the bike to the next boy. Stephen strolled over to where Annie stood, and together they watched as Geoff peeled out, flying down the field away from them.

Annie was now watching the dirt bike with something akin to lust in her eyes. She desperately wanted to get on that thing. Her brain began to work in overtime now, plotting her strategy. She knew it would take some clever diplomacy, if it was even at all possible....

Now that their leader had relocated his focus, the other boys did the same, walking as casually as they could manage over to where Annie stood as well.

"Nice bit of work, there, kid," one of them muttered. "Didja break Stewart's nose as well, then?"

Still on about that? Annie groused silently, irritated at the boy for interrupting her thoughts about the dirt bike. "Yeah, I suppose. He made the mistake of getting involved. Should've minded his own business."

"You don't look like you could take on two blokes all on your own," the argumentative one pressed her.

Annie tore her eyes away from the dirt bike and glared at him squarely as if to tell him if he wanted proof, she'd be happy to oblige. Even though technically it had been four bullying boys she had taken on, she hadn't been precisely alone at the time, and there was really no need to go into such complicated explanations. "What's your name, again?" she asked him quietly.

The boy, to his credit, read her expression accurately. And while part of him was itching to challenge this tiny little interloping girl with her unbelievable assertions, he also knew that if the story was true, there were good odds he might suffer some damage himself whilst fighting a girl. With his gang as witnesses, no less. It was a no-win situation, and he knew it. He licked his lips, then snorted in a dismissive way. "Tom," he answered.

The boy named Geoff finally returned after a signal from Stephen. Tom and Mike began to argue amongst themselves who should go next. Apparently they had already had one turn each and were jostling for their second chance. Annie took advantage of the disturbance to step up to the bike.

"Can I have a go?" she asked, looking Stephen right in the eye and speaking only to him. She figured that she might improve her chances by acknowledging him as the ringleader, if indeed she had any chance at all.

The rest of the boys silently glanced at each other, unsure how to respond. Normally, they would have dressed her down for her cheek. A girl? On the dirt bike? But Stephen seemed to like her, for some reason, and no one wanted to cross him until the situation became clearer.

Stephen stepped forward, taking the handlebars from his friend. "Yeah, I'll give you a ride," he offered with a smug grin on his face, as if it pleased him that she had chosen him to ask. That she wanted to ride with him. "Just hold on tight," he said with a chuckle as he began to climb on to the seat.

"No, I mean on my own. Will you show me how?" Annie fiercely wanted to ride the bike, but only on her own terms. She didn't want to be anybody's pet. She wanted to be accepted as an equal: no more, and certainly no less.

Uncertainty was painted on Stephen's face. This clearly was not what he had expected.

"I promise I'll be careful," she added, not sure if it would help.

After a pause, Stephen shrugged. "If you really think you can handle it," he said without enthusiasm.

"Just show me," she urged with a smile.

Annie couldn't believe her luck. Stephen held the bike still as she climbed on. He pointed out the throttle, clutch, and brakes, explaining briefly how to use them.

"Got it?" he asked her doubtfully.

Annie nodded, eager to take off. Following his instructions, she slowly rolled forward, then built up speed as she became sure of her balance. Within a minute, she was flying through the tall grass, the wind screaming past her ears and bringing tears to her eyes. This must be what it feels like to fly, she thought elatedly. Who needs a manky old broom after all?

24 September, 1989

George & Fred

1 October, 1989

Annie

15 November, 1989

George & Fred

19 November, 1989

Annie

8 December, 1989

George & Fred

10 January, 1990

Annie

15 January, 1990

George & Fred

7 February, 1990

Annie

29 February, 1990

George & Fred

20 March, 1990

Annie

27 March, 1990

George & Fred

1 April, 1990

Annie

15 April, 1990

George & Fred

17 May, 1990

Annie

10 June, 1990

George & Fred

Annie leaned back against the wall of the tree fort, smiling in utter contentment, anticipating her best friends' arrival. This summer had been everything she had hoped for throughout all the long months of school. It was if they had never been apart. The comfortable rapport of before picked right up where they had left off. They met nearly every morning in the forest, on bikes or on foot, usually with some adventurous plan for the day.

Well, there was one significant difference: Quidditch. Each afternoon after lunch, the boys left Annie alone for several hours to practice the game with their brother Charlie. It had become an obsession of theirs. They were fiercely determined to make the Gryffindor team next fall.

They had tried for an entire day to explain all the rules and strategies of the game to her. And she understood the general point of the game, she reckoned. It was just so difficult for her to picture in her mind. Annie was sure they had to be exaggerating about some things anyway, which didn't help. Hoops that soared fifty feet into the air? Get real.

The favorite game of wizards and witches all over the globe had become a serious inconvenience to Annie. But she was willing to sacrifice a few hours each afternoon in exchange for the reliable happiness and entertainment of the rest of the day. And to kill the time while she waited for them, she had developed a surprising hobby: she'd begun to read for pleasure. Usually she read tales of fantasy and adventure, borrowed from the library and easily hidden from her friends who'd caught her once and took the mickey out of her for being a swot, which she most assuredly was not. Other times she chose true tales of travel or technology. She ruefully confessed to herself that she was learning quite a bit this summer.

She had almost forgotten, over the past year, what it was like to be treated like an equal among friends. Like her opinion mattered. Like her ideas were worthwhile. Her 'friends' during the school year certainly didn't subscribe to any notions of equality amongst their ranks. To them she was small and female and therefore least interesting or important.

Still, it had been far better killing time pulling stunts with her new mates than those first mind-numbing weeks of lonely boredom after Fred and George had left. She had had some fun, shared some laughs with her substitute friends, hadn't she? And they had learned that she wouldn't be bullied. Nor would she tolerate any fresh remarks, which had begun to surface this spring. She had held her own in every fight and never chickened out of a dare. She had proved herself trustworthy by never ratting them out during the fiasco of the school break-in. Surely she had earned some level of their respect, she reckoned.

And anyway, what choice did she have? Apparently, all the girls her age were interested in topics Annie couldn't care less about: romance first and foremost, then television, movies, clothes, and makeup, but only as they related to the primary topic. Not only did Annie not have access to any of those things – she and Gran had a TV, but it was only turned on for an hour in the evening for the news – she wouldn't want them if she did. She cringed to merely contemplate being forced to listen to all that drivel. Blech.

No matter. Today promised to be an adventure to remember: she and the twins planned to ride their bikes six miles to the nearest beach. She had stuffed her backpack with food and her camera – her twelfth birthday present from Gran – and her bike was leaning against the willow's trunk. And the best part of all: she would be with her friends all day long for once. No Quidditch today!

The ride had been long, hot, and quiet – especially that last mile. But now they were sitting on the beach, enjoying the cooling breezes on their wet skin.

"Have to admit, George... it's nice to not be sitting on a broom for a change," Fred confessed.

George chuckled. "My backside will never be the same, I'm afraid."

"Surely we'll make the team, don't you think?"

"Charlie seems to think so...."

Annie sighed and rolled her eyes. Quidditch again? Her friends had always been determined fellows when it came to adventurous stunts, but this was bordering on pathological.

"Charlie's captain anyway – he gets to choose who's in. Why are you worried?" she asked them, exasperated.

"No, he isn't. Didn't we tell you?" asked Fred.

"Last match of the year, he swore to the team he'd quit captain if they didn't win. Sort of a radical, balls-to-the-wall pep talk," explained George.

"And as you well know..."

"Gryffindor got clobbered..."

"And he was true to his word. Resigned the captain position."

"So, who's to be the captain this year?" Annie asked, only very slightly curious.

"Dunno. But it won't be Charlie."

"Which actually helps our chances a bit. Charlie might've passed us over just to avoid any suspicion of nepotism."

"But that's an excellent question, Annie. Who do you think it might be, George?"

Annie should have seen it coming. How stupid of her to say anything that would continue the conversation in this vein. They droned on, naming every bloke and lass in Gryffindor House, comparing relative skills and other merits. Of course they came to no conclusion whatsoever. And she'd been subjected to yet another pointless half hour of Quidditch blather.

"Let's go for another swim. I'm roasting!" she cried, finally managing to get a word in edgewise.

The three of them dove into the water, splashing and dunking each other for almost fifteen minutes before the subject was broached again.

"Did we tell you, Annie? Dad promised us both brooms if we make the team!"

"No, you hadn't mentioned that. You haven't mentioned Quid-effing-ditch for nearly a quarter of an hour. It's a record!"

Fred laughed. "Are we boring you?"

"To tears!" she cried. "I'm utterly stupefied with boredom. Please can we talk about something else? Anything else!"

"How about the state of cauldron bottoms?" teased George.

"Oh my, it's frightful! Shamefully thin and dirty to boot!" exclaimed Fred. "What has the world come to?" he added, splashing Annie.

"You can kiss my cauldron bottom!" she laughed with a splash in return.

Both boys made convincingly realistic retching noises in response.

"I'm famished. Bring anything else in your bag to eat?" asked Fred, changing the subject.

"Dunno if you've left anything uneaten. We can go look, if you like," she offered, and they began traipsing back to their spot on the sand.

As they sat down, Annie took a good look at both boys. "You know, maybe we should move out of the sun. You two are looking a bit... lobster-ish."

"Don't be silly, it's nothing," explained Fred confidently.

"Have you ever been sunburned before?" she asked dubiously.

Both boys shrugged as they dug into the last of the sandwiches.

"Maybe you should put your shirts back on..." she recommended.

"It's hot!" George complained. "Mind your own business, anyway."

"Whatever. Don't say I didn't warn you."

The trio munched quietly on the food for another minute.

"I wonder if we could get a couple of used Cleansweep Fives?" asked Fred.

"I suppose so," agreed George. "Now that the Seven is out, Dad could probably find a good price on a couple of Fives."

"ARGH!" Annie flopped backwards onto the sand in frustration.