Someone Great, James S. Potter

II

THE WARM SUMMER air Stevie had gotten used to over the summer was vanishing rapidly as the first couple days of school had come and gone. There was no time for sentimental moments during her last first week of classes or analyzing James' behavior around Sunny because there was no way she would have missed the fact that her friend had a secret admirer—and yet, Stevie made time for it all.

"Okay—Otto, move a little closer to Sunny," said Maria Kim, her nimble fingers clutching Stevie's camera. Though she'd acted annoyed when Stevie asked her to take a picture of her and her friends, Maria now had a ghost of a smile on her face as she told everyone to smile. "Okay, just two more...Okay, you're good."

"Thanks, Mar," Stevie said, rushing up to grab the camera—it once belonged to her grandfather and was an old thing, much different to Otto's digital one with boring, still pictures.

"Yeah, whatever," Maria said, turning around, "just don't forget to leave them out in the sun so they develop...and don't get fingerprints all over them."

"For someone who seemed annoyed at the prospect of doing something for someone else, you seem very invested in these pictures," said Stevie, her eyebrow cocked.

"Go choke," Maria called over her shoulder.

"How kind," Sunny said, grabbing one of the photos from Stevie's grasp. "Merlin, I look amazing!"

"Always so modest," said Otto, who was glancing at the photos from over Stevie's shoulder. "I'm blinking in like half of these!"

Stevie rolled her eyes and tucked the photos into her bag, much to Sunny's dismay. "I've got to send one to my dad. He'll get all upset if I forget."

"I'd send one to my mom, but I don't think she'd like to see my face at the moment," Otto said, falling in step with Stevie as they made their way to the Owlery. "I broke her favorite vase before I left. To be fair, putting it right next to the front door was not her best idea."

"Maybe she was thought that her seventeen-year-old son would be as clumsy as a three-year-old," Sunny teased. Her strides were nearly as long as Otto's, and her muscular legs carried her up the spiraling stairs quicker than either of her friends. "Stevie, make sure to remind you dad to pay Sinclair so you get put on the team this year."

"Ha ha," said Stevie, tying the letter she had written to her father along with the picture onto an owl's leg.

"Quidditch trials aren't for another week," Otto said, "she'll have time later."

"I love the support I'm getting from you guys," Stevie said, rolling her eyes. The owl let out a content chirp as she stroked its head. "What if I actually got really good over the summer and my dad doesn't even have to bribe Sinclair to put me on the team?"

"Well, did you," asked Otto.

"No," said Stevie, "but you could've entertained the possibility before assuming that I was as shit as usual."

"Oh, Stevie," Sunny said, frowning. "You're not shit! You're way worse than shit. You're on your own level of shit."

"Y'know, I wouldn't insult me while at the top of a really high tower with low railings, if I were you." Stevie crossed her arms, letting the owl take off, its claws barely grazing Sunny's head.

"Please," Sunny said, "we all know you wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Hm, I think you're forgetting about the time I gave James Potter a bloody nose in his backyard when we were five."

"Why would I remember that," Sunny said. "And don't mention James unless absolutely necessary."

"I take it you're not excited about your new Quidditch captain, then," said Otto, a smile on his face.

"I'm choosing not to think about the fact that I have to spend almost everyday with Potter until that time actually comes," Sunny said, shuddering.

Stevie cackled, the thought of James' crush on her mind. Sunny gave her an odd glance, but she shrugged it off, saying that they should get back to the Great Hall before all the food was gone.

______

QUIDDITCH TRIALS WERE never necessarily important to Stevie; she always knew she would make the team, everybody did, though not everybody knew why. Most thought that it was because of the sheer power of her last name in the Quidditch world, which wasn't that far off from the truth. Fewer knew about the bribes, which Stevie was thankful for. She could handle many things, but she could never handle embarrassment.

As Stevie walked onto her pitch for what would be her last round of Quidditch trials ever, she felt a sense of relief. She would only feel the guilt of taking a better person's spot just one more time. She would only have to feel the searing glares of deserving fifth and sixth years as they stomped off the pitch just one more time. Just one more time, she reminded herself.

Maria appeared next to Stevie, a shoulder bumping into hers. "Y'ready?"

Maria's eyes were glancing around the pitch, her strong arms folded across her chest: she was in her element. Quidditch was the only thing that Stevie knew Maria cared about, maybe besides Sinclair—the brutal Slytherin Quidditch captain and Maria's loving boyfriend.

"Always," said Stevie, her voice laced with sarcasm. She was surprised that Maria didn't hate her; she couldn't catch a Quaffle for the life of her, yet she always made it on the team. Maybe Maria was only happy as long as she knew she had no competition, that Stevie would never be put in her place.

Stevie quickly learned that she indeed had not improve miraculously over the summer as she nearly fell of her broom whilst attempting to catch a Quaffle. Sinclair made her run 5 laps every time this happened; she ran 25 by the time warmups were over.

"That's enough, Wood," Sinclair barked as she dropped the Quaffle a seventh time. His jaw was clenched tighter than ever before. "You can just sit and watch."

______

"IT HONESTLY COULD'VE been worse," Otto said when Stevie told him and Sunny exactly what happened at tryouts.

"Really," said Stevie, arms crossed, brows furrowed, "how could it have been worse?"

"Okay, you're right, you were horrendous," said Otto. "Sorry for trying to be positive!"

"I just—I thought that I might have improved a little bit," said Stevie. "The idea of sitting on the bench for the seventh year in a row just makes me depressed."

"Why don't you just quit," Otto asked, blond brows furrowed.

"We all know that quitting is not an option," Stevie said, her head snapping up. "I've just got to figure out how to get better, how to be the best..."

"What's wrong," Sunny said. "You look constipated."

"I've got a brilliant idea."