Who's That Girl

Minerva McGonagall stood between her fellow Gryffindors, Enid Weatherby and Aurora O'Day, feeling rather foolish. She had no particular desire to be here, but her classmates had insisted that she join them for their daily ritual -- watching the Quidditch teams come in from practice.

"Oh, come on, Minerva," Enid had said, tugging her hand as Aurora shut her book. "Just this once."

"Honestly, McGonagall, there's more to life than studying," Aurora added. "It'll do you good."

"But --" she'd begun to protest, but before she knew it they'd pulled her out into the hallway. It seemed, in the end, more trouble than it was worth to fight them. She'd go this once, just to appease them, and study later tonight to make up for lost time.

And so here she was in a downstairs hallway, forcing a smile as Enid and Aurora giggled excitedly. Minerva wasn't a Quidditch fan. Indeed, she cared little for anything but her studies, particularly Transfiguration, which was by far her favorite class. As a result, she had few friends, although her fellow Gryffindors were quick enough to come to her when they needed help with an assignment. She liked things just fine that way -- the fewer friends she had, the fewer obligations, and the more time to spend studying.

Enid poked her head around the corner and squealed. "They're coming!" she hissed.

"It's Gryffindor and Ravenclaw today," Aurora whispered helpfully. "Surely even you've noticed Henry Ivey."

"For Merlin's sake, I'm not blind," said Minerva irritably. "But --"

Both girls shushed her as the Quidditch players rounded the corner and passed by, not even noticing the three Gryffindor girls in the alcove near the door. First came the Gryffindor team, joking amongst themselves and slapping each other on the back. One of the girls -- she wasn't sure which -- clutched Minerva's arm so tightly she was sure it would leave a bruise.

"Crikey," the two girls breathed in unison. Minerva once again rolled her eyes. Why was she here? She could think of any number of things she'd rather be doing --

And then the Ravenclaws rounded the corner.

They were led by a girl with short, wild hair and a wicked grin. Her robes were unfastened and trailed behind her, revealing that beneath them she was dressed like a boy -- trousers and boots and a sweaty, grass-stained white shirt whose top three buttons were undone. The shirt clung distractingly to her athletic form. Her face, striking if not exactly pretty, was streaked with dirt.

Minerva couldn't take her eyes off her.

"Bugger off, Greenwood, you know your mother's a slag," the girl tossed over her shoulder, and as she turned her head back around, for just a moment, her eyes met Minerva's. She had the most fascinating eyes -- an eerie yellow, they riveted her attention and she felt a shiver run through her.

And then the moment was over, and the Ravenclaws were gone. She stared after them in blank astonishment, wondering who that girl had been, and her classmates giggled behind her.

"So, Minerva, it's the Ravenclaws you fancy?" asked Aurora, grinning.

Enid elbowed her in the ribs with a knowing look. "Must've been Terry Greenwood. He is a bit of all right, if you ask me."

Minerva nodded vaguely, not daring to let them know her true thoughts. "All right indeed," she echoed.

"I don't know where Hooch gets off calling Greenwood's mother a slag. Her own mother was Muggle-born, you know," said Aurora. "

Hooch?" Minerva asked, trying to sound casual.

"The Ravenclaw Keeper," Enid said impatiently. "Don't you know anything? She's seventh-year. Xiomara Hooch. Always dresses like a boy." She dropped her voice conspiratorially. "Word is she's queer."

"Really," Minerva replied absently. "Hmm."

This Hooch creature would definitely require further investigation.