Year 2 at Hogwarts

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 twelve-year-old pen friends. They are entirely my own fault and not that of the lovely admins here at TPP.

Chapter 8: Year 2 at Hogwarts

1990 – 1991

28 September, 1990

P.S. You'll be happy to hear we've finally finished peeling from that bloody sunburn!

15 October, 1990

Annie

10 November, 1990

George & Fred

12 December, 1990

Annie

27 January, 1991

George & Fred

14 February, 1991

Annie

28 February, 1991

George & Fred

1 April, 1991

Annie

3 May, 1991

P.S. Thanks for fingering me you prat! (Fred wrote this – ha ha!)

1 June, 1991

Annie

15 June, 1991

P.S. No miracle to report – unless you count 5 Slytherins in hospital versus only 3 Gryffindors. Do hope Wood recovers fully – I feel bad about missing that Bludger that beaned him...

It's not fair, Annie fumed, bristling at their inconsiderate treatment of her. They were supposed to be here by now. If her friends weren't coming, they should have told her. They didn't have more than a couple of days left to spend together before they left once more for school.

She strongly suspected she knew exactly where to find them. After all, they seldom stopped talking, writing, or thinking about it. All day, everyday. That bloody stupid game! What was so all-fired wonderful about it anyway?

Okay, flying on brooms sounds like a lot of fun. So does chasing after that little Snitch ball with wings. And she had to admit, she was pretty interested in seeing exactly what those Bludgers did.

Well, then, what's stopping me? she asked herself.

She knew where they would be – she'd been to the orchard before with her friends. It was their favorite spot to blow things up, whenever they were lucky enough to get their hands on a bit of explosives. That was before all this rotting Quidditch business, though. She'd bet all the money she had in the world that's exactly where they were right now. Maybe she'd just march over there and give them a piece of her mind!

As she trekked through the woods, she considered what she'd say to them if given the chance. I'll tell them exactly where to stick those blessed Cleansweep Fives, that's what. It's a fine way to treat an old friend: leaving me to sweat in that tiny tree fort, twiddling my thumbs with nothing to do. Forget it! Screw them! she huffed as she stomped through the trees.

As she approached the gentle incline that led to the paddock hidden by the orchard, her anger was quickly dissipating and turning into self-doubt. Who could blame them, after all? Why would they want to spend all day with an uninteresting Muggle girl when they could be flying about, playing a magical game with other wizards? She knew she'd do the same in a heartbeat, if she could, regardless of who was waiting for her elsewhere.

She crept closer, attracted by the voices of her friends and their brothers that she could now hear clearly. She knew the heroic Bill and legendary Charlie were both back at home for a brief period: two more reasons her best friends would rather be here than with her. Who wouldn't prefer a dashing Curse-Breaker and a daring future dragon-tamer for company? Not to mention their brothers were wizards who were of age and could do magic with no fear of recriminations.

Annie peeked around the large tree trunk she was hiding behind, careful to remain hidden by a neighboring shrub. Her jaw dropped at the sight before her: five ginger boys flew about like zooming dragonflies, dipping and looping and soaring. Apparently the youngest brother can fly now as well. Or maybe he's just getting away with something – there was no way that could be Percy on a broom, from what her friends had told her about their prat of a brother. The five of them were making an unholy racket, either shouting commands at each other or just simply whooping with the joy of the activity.

She heard a loud, metallic crack and recognized George's voice as he called out, "Take that one, Bill!" A soccer-sized ball went whistling through the air toward a very tall-looking man, his long legs and arms gripping a hovering broom and his long hair fluttering behind him in the breeze. Bill easily maneuvered out of the way of the Bludger, which then changed direction and began chasing him.

Annie nearly clawed the bark from the tree in anxiety. Fly faster, Bill! she silently urged him. She didn't like the way the menacing ball was closing the distance between itself and the broom rider. Look out! she nearly shouted out loud. She edged out from behind the tree to get a better view.

Just then, Fred appeared beside Bill. He raised a smallish bat with his right arm and swung against the Bludger. There was a loud clank as the bat made contact with the pursuing ball, and it changed direction for good this time. Annie breathed a sigh of relief that Fred had been there to rescue his older brother from the intimidating cannonball.

It was thrilling to watch, this Quidditch game, she had to confess. How could she have ever thought that riding a stupid dirt bike could ever compare to this? She watched as the one she assumed was Charlie circled the makeshift pitch, spinning through the air on his broom like a rifle bullet with one arm extended out in front of him, reaching out for something invisible to her eyes. That move would have definitely made me sick, she thought with glee.

And then the realization hit her like a Bludger: she would never know for sure, would she? She would never fly on a broom like her friends and their brothers could do. She would never feel this kind of freedom.

Sickening jealousy wrestled with a profound sense of loss within Annie. The cursed circumstances of her birth began piling up in her mind. She had been born too small, too early, too ill. Worst of all: unwanted. Unloved by her parents. And now yet another 'un' to add to the list: un-magical.

Was it harder to deal with because she alone knew the alternative? No one else she knew lamented the fact they could not do magic. Not that she'd ever asked, of course – but it was obvious all the same that nobody but her spared a moment's thought about it. Yet Annie knew the existence of another world; that magic was real. That it was so close she could reach out and touch it, or at least walk amidst it. She often snuck into the woods when Fred and George were gone at school, searching for imps and fairies to cheer her. It helped that she could still find them on her own, reassuring her that all her memories were real, and everyone else was mistaken.

"Look out, Charlie!" shouted George.

Annie's attention focused once again on the activity in the air before her. Across the orchard, Fred and George both were jetting toward a Bludger chasing after Charlie.

"They're going for a dopplebeater!" cried the smallest boy in a high-pitched voice.

That must be Ron, thought Annie as she watched the twins both raise their batting arms as one.

With a force that made them each spin on their brooms, Fred and George hit the Bludger simultaneously and were treated to a rousing cheer from the other flyers around them.

Annie had only a split second to react. The Bludger was headed directly for her at nearly the speed of lightening, she reckoned. She ducked, reflexively bringing up her right arm as a shield. The next instant, she was on the ground and heard the ball zoom past her head once again as it returned to the orchard-pitch.

And then she felt it.

Blinding pain had finally traveled the nerve endings from her right forearm to her brain. It was so intense she could barely breathe, let alone cry out. Instinctively, she hugged her arm to her body – an action that resulted in a new wave of pain that made her retch.

Using her legs, she gingerly scooted on her back until she reached the tree and eased herself into a seated position, leaning against the trunk. Then she hazarded a glance down at her injured arm. About halfway between her elbow and her wrist, her right arm bent outwards at an odd angle. The sight was so jarring it made her head spin.

Annie took a few moments to catch her breath. The pain wasn't going away, nor was it getting any easier to bear. She heard the voices of the boys still playing from behind her. They hadn't noticed her presence, much less that she had been hit.

"Fred?"

The most she could muster was a very faint whimper – no good at all. Should she try again, see if she could yell any louder? Maybe try to stand, walk out onto the field? She thought about what would happen then: Fred and George would see her, help her home... in front of their brothers.

Then the jig would be up. Their secret blown. The rest of the family would find out about her, and that was unacceptable. She couldn't put Fred and George in jeopardy like that. She wouldn't risk their friendship, no matter how much it hurt her.

Annie gritted her teeth as she braced herself against the tree trunk, using it to help her get to her feet. The pain was making her head spin, but she steadied herself against the tree until the spell had passed. Then slowly, panting with the effort, she began walking home, cradling her broken arm against her body.

Three hours later, Annie was sitting in a stark, antiseptic emergency room. At least the pain is gone, she thought gratefully, watching the doctor adding wet, goopy plaster and gauze to the cast on her arm. At least, that's what she imagined it felt like, since her arm was completely numb at the moment. She could hear him periodically mutter words like, "Ludicrous," and, "Unbelievable," under his breath.

The walk home through the woods had been excruciating. Gran had thankfully been too shocked at the sight of her mangled arm to give her any immediate third degree about how it happened. Mrs. Finnerty, the neighbor lady, had graciously driven them the short distance to the hospital in Ottery.

Annie had exited the x-ray room and taken a seat next to the examination table with her arm propped on it, waiting for the pain medication to take full effect before they set the break. Glancing then at the doctor and her grandmother, she had seen that the inquisition was about to commence.

It had come from the doctor first. "Young lady, how did this happen?" he had asked, glancing at the x-ray films.

"Er-um... I sort of... fell?"

Gran raised an eyebrow, looking at her quizzically.

"You fell? From where, a three story building?" the doctor had demanded, still not looking at her.

"Well, no. I fell from... my bike."

"You expect me to believe that you snapped both your radius and ulna by falling from a bicycle?" he had asked incredulously.

Annie had nodded, feigning confidence she did not feel. "I was going really fast. Sorry, Gran," she had added. She'd meant it, but not for the reason she'd hoped Gran would assume.

"Then where are the other bruises and abrasions, hmm? You must have skidded along the road, going so fast as you were," he had asked then, clearly figuring he'd caught her in a lie.

Annie had shrugged. "I just sort of... hit a rock... and then I flew over the handlebars... and landed on my arm... on some grass. No skidding."

"Well, I can see I'm not going to get the real story out of you," he snapped, glaring at her. He gave her Gran a suspicious look, as if sizing her up. Then pursed his lips, dismissing the thought.

Annie's Gran had spoken up then. "My granddaughter doesn't lie, Doctor. If she says that's how it happened, that's how it happened. Now, if you please, just patch her up so I can take her home."

Annie's eyes and heart had sunk to the floor as her grandmother spoke. She felt like a toad, forcing her Gran to defend her bald-faced lie to the doctor. She was only in this predicament because of her stupid temper and her revolting jealousy of her best friends. She didn't deserve her loving Gran, or her friends. She had never felt so utterly worthless, and that was saying something.

After the cast was set and her arm was resting in a sling, they finally left the hospital. It was well after dinner time, and Annie was starving.

"I sent Mrs. Finnerty home, dear. It wouldn't be right to make her wait on us all that time. I hope you feel up to walking home," Gran said tenderly.

Annie nodded. Her arm was beginning to ache as the medication wore off, but she reckoned she deserved whatever pain she felt and probably more. She almost hoped her Gran would call her out for the lie, punish her, even send her to bed with no supper – anything to relieve the guilt.

"We'll have a quick fry-up, then you need to lie down and get some rest. I expect tomorrow will be quite difficult for you, learning how to manage with that cast, my dear. No more bikes or forest walks for you for a while, I imagine. I'm just glad your bicycle wasn't damaged and you weren't hurt any worse." Gran gently put her arm around Annie's shoulders, then gave her a little squeeze of a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Why was Gran being so understanding, now that she knew Annie was a proven liar? She couldn't have believed the bike story any more than the doctor did. Was she now punishing Annie with kindness instead of anger, making her squirm with the guilt of it? Annie had never felt more miserable than she did at this moment, and a tear rolled down her cheek as they walked home together with darkness falling around them.

*

Annie strolled down the street. She had been cooped up in the house with Gran for almost exactly a week and couldn't stand any more. It didn't matter that she wasn't feeling well at the moment, or that Gran had gone out of her way to be nice to her the entire time – both these things worked together to force her out, in fact. She reckoned she deserved the nagging, aching pain in her arm. But she was sick of wallowing in the guilt that Gran's never-ending kindness left her mired in.

The weather was still quite warm, and the cast and sling were distinctly uncomfortable. Annie's arm felt swollen, itchy, and heavy on top of the pain from her broken bones. At least it isn't my writing arm, she thought gratefully. That is, assuming Fred and George would write her at all, since she had stood them up before they left. She hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye to them this year.

And while the physical activity of her brisk walk in the sunshine was improving her mood somewhat, she was still feeling a bit prickly as she turned down the street toward Stephen's house. She had not seen nor spoken to any of her other friends since the last day of school. She didn't even know for sure that they would be there, but that was the most likely place to find them, she figured.

Annie was in luck. Three boys sat on the front stoop, looking lazy and bored. Perfect, she thought. She'd much rather unleash her mood on them than her Gran. Knowing them, they probably deserved it.

Tom smirked as she approached the steps. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

"Thought you must've fallen down a well or something," laughed Geoff.

Stephen alone stood up and smiled at her approach, like he was the slightest bit happy to see her again. "What happened to you?" he asked in a playfully accusatory tone of voice.

Annie shrugged. She was unsure if he was referring to her arm or her absence. Either way, she had no intention of discussing her summer with this lot. "Been busy. Had an accident."

"Obviously," he said, bristling at the brush off. "Did you fall or something, clumsy git?"

"What do you care?" she asked him defensively.

"I don't!" he exclaimed, perhaps a tad too vehemently.

"Then why d'you ask?" Annie cried. She began to think maybe she should've gone somewhere else, after all.

"Jesus, you're touchy!" Stephen complained and turned away, dropping the conversation for the moment as he sat back down on the stoop.

Geoff narrowed his eyes, silently thoughtful, as if puzzled by the strangely heated interaction.

Tom wasn't done antagonizing Annie yet, however. She had always been a thorn in his side, ever since he had been unsuccessful in asserting his dominance over her that first day they had met. "On the rag or something?" he jeered, looking to get a rise out of her as well as placate his leader.

Annie froze for a moment, stunned by the rude vulgarity of the comment. Point of fact, she actually was menstruating at the moment – for only the third time in her life. She looked at Tom, searching for a clue as to what had brought on the unprovoked attack. All she saw was the most revolting smirk on his face.

She glanced at Stephen, who she discovered was watching her with an amused smile of his own, anticipating what punishment might be in store for Tom. She felt a flare of resentment toward him and the way he enjoyed pitting his friends against one another. She suspected that was the only reason Stephen sometimes gave her preferential treatment: for entertainment value alone. It was never to the point of sticking up for her, of course – only enough to stir up resentment against her amongst the rest of the herd.

She asked herself for the hundredth time why she put up with this bullshit from them, then deflated slightly as she answered herself: because my real friends are gone.

Still, it made her blood boil that Tom imagined he could get away with comments like that. Annie casually took a few steps over to where he was standing. "What did you say?" she asked softly, daring him to repeat it.

"You heard me," Tom replied, daring her to retaliate. She was one-armed, after all. He had finally caught her with a distinct advantage in his favor.

He was clearly expecting nothing more than a verbal retort, despite the fact he had spent so much time in her company last year. Slow learner, Tom, she thought.

With her good hand and with lightening quickness, she slapped the smirk right off his face. "Don't you ever speak to me like that again," she said, maintaining a soft, calm tone of voice, completely belying the indignant rage inside.

Tom took a second to recover himself, then scrambled upright. He loomed over Annie, glowering at her. "You little..." he snarled, clenching his fists.

Annie glared right back into his eyes, planting her feet, refusing to back down.

"Tom!" barked Stephen. He leaped up off the stoop and moved to stand between the two of them with his back to Annie, facing the threatening boy. "Leave her alone," he warned him.

"Is that how it is?" he asked, his tone scathing. "She's your little pet now?" With narrowed eyes, Tom snickered condescendingly.

Stephen shrugged with nonchalance.

"The hell I am!" cried Annie angrily. She struggled to push Stephen out of the way. She could have done it, too, she reckoned, if she'd only had two good arms.

Tom sneered with delight, recognizing Stephen had just handed him a weapon to use against her. "Forget it," he said dismissively, taking several steps backward down the street. "Since you're just going to hide behind your boyfriend...."

Annie moved to follow Tom down the street. "I'm not hiding behind anything!" she shouted.

But Stephen had shifted also, putting himself bodily between her and her quarry. He had puffed himself up as well, as if he was trying to encourage them all to think... what? That he was her protector? She damn well didn't need one, if that's what he thought!

"Get out of my way!" she yelled at Stephen, attempting to dart around him. "Hey, Tom..." she called out as she dashed ahead of Stephen, taking quick steps to catch up with the retreating boy.

Just as Tom paused and turned around to face her once more, Stephen grabbed her around the waist from behind, jerking her backward. She writhed and fought to escape, but it was no use. Tom laughed derisively at her, then turned again and jogged away.

"Get your hands off of me NOW!" she yelled, squirming and clawing at Stephen with her good hand.

After a moment's pause, Stephen complied.

She spun around to unleash her fury on him. "Keep your goddamn nose out of it!" she cried. "I don't need you to stick up for me! You never have before!"

Stephen rolled his eyes. "You were about to get your arse kicked, sweetheart."

Annie snorted. "By Tom? I can more than handle anything he can dish out. Even with one hand tied behind my back," she yelled, brandishing her cast.

Stephen smiled and shook his head. "You must think you're about a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than you actually are, git."

Annie attempted unsuccessfully to fold her arms across her chest in a huff. Damn bloody cast, she growled to herself. Instead, she sat down on the stoop and glared at Stephen for the next ten minutes, grinding her teeth. He didn't help matters by occasionally chuckling at her, rolling his eyes, and constantly smirking.

She happened to glance over at Geoff. He was looking at her strangely, as if he had just arrived at some sort of conclusion about something.

"What?" she demanded, testily.

"Nothing," he answered, but the look didn't go away.

Annie continued to stare back at him, strongly suspecting he was lying to her.

He nervously looked over at Stephen, then down at the ground. "I should probably get going... catch you lot later," he said, awkwardly.

As Geoff was walking down the street, Stephen sat down next to Annie. She was beginning to smell a rat, and the stink got worse the closer Stephen got. A disturbing thought occurred to Annie in that moment. "Why did Tom call you my boyfriend?" she asked him.

Stephen shrugged. "Who knows?" he replied, then looked away. "He's an idiot."

"Right," said Annie dubiously, unconvinced.