"Can I call you Tori? You know Tori, I'm a great friend."
"I don't get it, why are you being nice to me?"
"Maybe I don't want to see you friendless."
When Victoria Silvers, who comes from a long line of Slytherins, is sorted into Gryffindor her life...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Tori started down the hallway slowly, trying to push away the gross feeling in her gut. She was almost wondering if she could use it as an excuse to skip Quidditch practice. So many thoughts were going through her head, she felt a little bit dizzy.
She and her family didn't get along, obviously. But being afraid of them? That wasn't something Tori was expecting. Fred was waiting for her by the Great Hall, immediately noticing the hopeless look on her face. "Hey, Woah. What's going on?"
Tori tried to play it off with a shrug. "Nothing. I just... don't feel... well." Fred saw through her fib within seconds, raising an eyebrow.
"You're a terrible liar."
"No, I'm not!"
"Ah-ha! I knew you were lying! Now come on, tell me what's going on." Tori sighed, telling him what Professor Lupin said and her connection with her family to the snake. Fred nodded along, leading her up to the common room to get ready for practice.
"I can never just get a day off." She ranted. They walked up the stairs, holding on to the railing. Fred stayed quiet for a moment, trying to think of what to say. "You have us, Tori."
"I know, and that's enough. I just... What about you? Your boggart—"
"Was a little weird? Yeah. On the bright side, at least the paper didn't call me George."
Tori laughed, running before the stair could switch again. Fred shrugged, continuing.
"I guess George and I do the things we do... so someone will remember us."
"Fred—"
"Well, think about it. All our other siblings have these great accomplishments. So we have to do something, you know? So we're not just 'The Weasley Twins.'"
Tori nodded, patting him on the arm. "You're so much more. And, the teachers definitely know that." Fred smiled, thanking her as the two now separated to get ready for their first quidditch practice.
✧ ✦ ✧
Oliver Wood was a burly seventeen-year-old, now in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts. There was a quiet sort of desperation in his voice as he addressed his six fellow team members in the chilly changing rooms on the edge of the darkening Quidditch pitch.
"This is our last chance— my last chance— to win the Quidditch Cup," He told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it.
"Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world— injuries — then the tournament getting called off last year..." Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the best – ruddy— team— in— the— school," He said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye
