Gryffindor is for the Brave

Chapter Two
Blurry Visions and Vicious Battles

Minerva rose early her first morning, and before breakfast she made her way up to the headmaster's office to pick up course schedules for her House. It was one of the privileges of being Head Girl, or so she was told. Getting up early to face snotty remarks from the representatives of Slytherin and Ravenclaw seemed more punishment than privilege.

"Morning, Minerva," Tom Riddle said, yawning, as she reached the top of the stairs. "Ready for the year?"

She nodded, smiling shyly at him and the Ravenclaw Prefect, Cera Brighton. There wasn't anything to say. She had a hard enough time trying to think of remarks to say to Julia and Evan, who always treated her with respect at least; never mind these two. Cera was Minerva's longtime rival for the best marks of the year, and had not taken kindly to her appointment as Head Girl. Tom was nice enough, but his quick temper and defensive nature were famous throughout the school.

Though he was in Slytherin, a respected house, rumor held that Tom was a half-blood, and that he was the first such to be chosen as Head Boy in over eighty years. Minerva herself, though her father was part of an old wizarding family, was not a pureblood either; her mother's blood had been -- tainted -- only one or two generations back. This wasn't common knowledge, of course, but Minerva McGonagall and Tom Riddle remained two of the most controversial choices for Head Girl and Boy in Hogwarts history.

"Where is the Hufflepuff Prefect?" Cera asked in an annoyed tone, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Tradition held that schedules could not be handed out until all four house representatives were present. Cera had probably asked the same question about Minerva before she'd come up.

Neither of them gave Cera a reply, but it didn't deter her. She kept shifting her weight, occasionally sighing, and generally making motions of impatience for several minutes until Aidan Connelly finally mounted the stairs, breathing hard, with the comb marks still clear in his wet hair.

As soon as he took his place beside the other four, with a long, bashful look at Minerva, Professor Dippet came out, leaning hard on a walking stick, with Professor Paideia just behind him. "Good morning," Dippet wheezed quietly, emitting drops of spittle at the four students. Cera flinched.

"The course schedules for your houses," Professor Paideia intoned, and handed a pile of parchments to each of them. "Be careful with them please," he added, frowning as Aidan tried to find his own schedule and nearly dropped the whole pile. "There is a Prefects meeting Thursday evening, just after dinner. You are all expected to attend, and to communicate this news to the other Prefects in your houses. Dismissed."

The four left quickly, clattering down the stairs and to the Great Hall for breakfast. They ran into three lost first years on the way, and spent enough time directing them and passing out schedules that breakfast was half over before Minerva realized that Professor Dippet had not said a word beyond his initial greeting for the entirety of the interview.

Their first class that morning was Potions, a ritual since first year. Professor Shirley, an older man with pale hair, had been at Hogwarts since before Julia's oldest sister began, more than fifteen years before. He was now Head of Hufflepuff, and took his duties in all respects very seriously. Each year began with an introduction, a statement of his expectations and grading policies, and an overview of what they would be doing each year. Minerva appreciated the clarity, but was easily bored by the repetition.

Julia left after Potions, going out to the fields for her Care of Magical Creatures class, and Evan and Minerva walked with her as far as the greenhouses, where they had Intermediate Herbology.

They were straightway put into separate sections, since Evan had taken Herbology for two years longer than Minerva. She knew it was important for her N.E.W.T.s, and remembered clearly the annoyance she felt when the few questions she missed on the O.W.L.s had all been about biomagy. But even knowing how important it was, Minerva couldn't help hating the class. Professor Anadendras was notorious for disliking anyone not in Ravenclaw or Slytherin, was rarely either willing or able to help after class, and took delight in giving exams on subjects not covered in their manuals. Minerva was glad the class met only twice a week.

After lunch, the three friends split up again for their elective classes. Minerva was continuing to learn Ancient Runes, the language used by wizards for their documents from Socrates's time through Merlin's. Evan, on the urging of his parents, was taking Arithmancy, and Julia would be in her Advanced Herbology class.

The Runes class was in one of the large, well-lit classrooms in the South Tower, and was taught by Ravenclaw's head, Professor Paideia. Though she knew Julia considered him self-important, Minerva respected the older wizard. As usual, he looked impressive and imposing, and called roll in a firm, deliberate voice.

He didn't waste any more time than necessary on introductions, but he did deem it necessary to remind the class of his expectations. "Do not waste time bringing your wands or your crystal balls to this class," he said, with a hint of sarcasm. "Here we are concerned not with mundane transformations, but with the ancient and time-honored origins behind the spells you chant so glibly. The oldest and some of the most powerful documents in existence are written in the language you choose to study, and no part of it is to be treated lightly. Studying these runes with anything less than complete respect and understanding is both wasteful and dangerous. See that you give it the attention it deserves."

After these pronouncements, he gave them a short translation of Merlin, to see how much they remembered from the previous year. By the end of class they had a sixty centimeter essay due explaining the differences between the subjunctive, indicative, and optative moods, and twelve parsing exercises to be turned in next class.

Minerva appreciated the level of discipline the class required. Along with Arithmancy, it had the reputation of being both challenging and selective; a reputation that was well-earned. The class was small, only twelve students, all seventh years. Most were Prefects, and most from Ravenclaw. Paideia himself, together with Minerva's father, was one of the leading translators in the country, and his high expectations reflected that.

"I've forgotten everything over the summer," she heard Rory Demos complaining to Brennan Keating as they gathered their things to leave. Minerva couldn't help but smile as Rory exited the room. She knew she was privileged, living with someone who did translations for a living, but she couldn't help thinking that no matter what the circumstances, Rory would shun any extra work over the summer. Tom caught her eye and grinned, guessing her thoughts.

"Bet you remember it all like it was yesterday. You must think the rest of us are a bunch of filthy Muggles," he said good-naturedly.

"Well, I'm in a different situation --" she began, before she realized he was joking.

He smiled roguishly at her and winked before swinging down the hall to meet up with his friends.

Minerva half-smiled, laughing at herself a little for expecting a longer conversation, and followed him toward their Divination class, which was several floors and a courtyard away.

This professor's entrance was dramatic; a great noise of hoofs clopping and tail flicking. The female centaur walked as gently as she could to the front of the room, but she was large, and the floor shook slightly, rattling the windows. She was clad in a loose, robe-like shirt, which may or may not have been her own hair. Whether it was woven, or growing, or merely an accurate reproduction, it shone out brightly among the more formally clad students. No wonder she didn't attend the opening feast, Minerva thought. She wouldn't be able to fit at the table.

"Good afternoon," the centaur said, in a deep, musical voice. "I will call roll in a moment, but first, I would like to address the issue of my own name." Though the sound was wonderful to listen to, the tone was tragic and melancholy.

"As you may have noticed, I am a centaur." Any other teacher would have gotten laughter in response, but the sadness came through every note and characterized the whole timbre, even when the Professor was making a joke, and the class felt it and remained silent. "My given name is Vidya. Among centaurs, direct family line is less important than individual accomplishments; I do not carry a name from my father or mother. However, I understand that here it is disrespectful to address an instructor by a first name." The students shuffled in their seats, confused and a little embarrassed that such a thing was even being suggested. Vidya smiled, but it was somehow not a cheerful expression.

"I have considered the matter carefully, I assure you," she continued, "and I believe that it is best that you address me simply as ‘Professor.' My clan name was Syntyche, but I would prefer to be addressed as something else. Using my clan name is, among other problems, unspecific; it would be as if I addressed one of you as ‘Englishman.' " She paused. "Among my people, my title is ‘Ramla.' If you like, you may use that." Again the half smile. "But I would ask that you not insult me by addressing me as ‘Professor Ramla.' One title or the other should suffice; when used together they are redundant and ungrammatical. It is the equivalent of saying ‘Professor Teacher,' or something of the kind, and I do not wish to respond to something so obviously juvenile and without contemplation."

Her eyes were clouded over, but she pursed her lips and smiled again. "You will find that I do not tolerate lack of contemplation in any regard, not only my name," she added. Again, it might have been humorous, coming in a different class, but it seemed impossible to laugh around this teacher. Minerva wondered if she'd ever be able to manage it. "And now, I shall commence with the roll. Allistaire, Tobey?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Tobey shook his head, as if trying to clear it. He seemed surprised that he'd been called on, as if he thought perhaps he should be answering a question he hadn't heard. But Vidya simply made a mark next to his name and moved on, gently swishing her tail against her legs. Minerva thought the whole class seemed to be in a kind of torpor, not from boredom, but simply lulled by the Professor's melodious way of speaking.

She barely registered her own name being called, and found she had to shake her head as well, to make sure she'd heard properly. She tried to remain alert afterwards, so as not to miss anything of the class itself. It's not like the Professor is hypnotizing me, Minerva thought. I really can think clearly. But it's much easier to let myself sink into a doze, like I could understand what she's saying on some other level more clearly than just listening. Is it because she's a centaur, or a Divination teacher, I wonder? I always used to feel drowsy in Professor Smythe's classes, too.

The hour long lesson never seemed rushed or energetic, but nor did it drag or feel boring. Without ever seeming to be in a hurry, the Professor conveyed a great deal of information about Divination in general and crystal balls in particular. By the end of class, focussing hard, many of the students had seen dim, foggy pictures in the sphere. Minerva was not among them, despite, or perhaps because of, her almost desperate staring.

Before she had time to register the fact, the class was over. No homework was given, to the shock of many, and the students made their way back to their dormitories rather more slowly than was usual.

"She's not hypnotic, exactly," Julia mused, as they walked toward the Gryffindor common room. "I mean, it's not like she'll tell you to jump off a bridge and you'll say ‘yes, Mistress, whatever you say' or anything. It just takes a little while for things to register when you're listening to her."

"I'm not sure I like it," Minerva responded, shifting her bag to her other shoulder. "I mean, how are we supposed to learn anything if we're half asleep all the time?"

"Because under other circumstances, Divination is very informative," Evan deadpanned. His dislike of Divination was far more prominent than Minerva's. He was only taking it because basic techniques would be on the N.E.W.T.s.

Julia grinned, making her voice become serious, as if she were reading from a textbook. "It is fundamentally impossible to actually pick up any relevant information about anything in a Divination class. Says so in the Hogwarts rulebook, or something."

Minerva blushed and smiled, ducking her head. After a second, she looked up, shoved her glasses further up the bridge of her nose and said, "I know the class is a little boring, but this really is different from fifth year, isn't it?"

"I can't decide whether or not I like her," Julia said thoughtfully. "She's really formal, what with that ‘please don't call me such and so,' and all."

"Did she seem -- I don't know, sad, to you?" Minerva asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Julia said, nodding. Her look was bemused. "You know, I wouldn't have thought of it if you hadn't brought it up. But she did seem sad, like everything in life was a huge letdown. Wonder why? D'you think something really horrible happened to her over the summer, or something?"

"Perhaps most centaurs have that trait," Evan suggested as they entered the dining hall.

Julia rolled her eyes. "Like you know so many."

"But he's right, I have heard about them being solemn and impressive," Minerva said. "I don't know if it always translates to ‘sad,' but it might not be unusual."

"I wonder why she's teaching?" Julia asked. "I thought they were supposed to be reclusive, hating wizards and all they stood for, and so forth."

"They do have a high reputation for skills in Divination and Astronomy," Evan said.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone else? I'm just surprised she agreed," Minerva said.

"Dare you to ask her what she's doing here," Julia said mischievously.

"Ask her yourself," Evan replied, all innocence.

Julia laughed aloud, and Minerva smiled. Evan had a rather wicked sense of humor, she was beginning to notice. She almost laughed, thinking of Julia going up to the Professor wanting to know why she was teaching. Her friends might be able to pick up something from rumors, but no student would ask such a direct and rude question of a teacher, particularly one so formal as the Professor. She soon forgot about it, however, and went back to thinking about her Runes paper.

"What've we got first today?" Julia wanted to know the next morning, as she reached past Minerva for an apple.

Minerva ducked under the table and grabbed her book bag, balancing it on the bench next to her. She pushed aside several notebooks before taking out a neatly creased slip of paper. "Curses and Countercurses," she replied, after pausing to take a sip of juice. "With Professor Schwartz."

"Ooohh, goody," Julia answered, half dreamily, half mockingly, catching Minerva's eye and giggling. Minerva let the corners of her mouth tweak upward into a smirk as she replaced the timetable in her school bag. Schwartz was good looking, but she'd always considered him too old to actually lust over. Now, if Tobey Allistaire was in her class again, then there would definitely be some silent gazing.

Evan rolled his eyes. "Do be so good as to let me know when I should pay attention again, then," he said sarcastically, going back to his fried eggs.

Julia's giggle broke into a full on laugh. "What can I say? He's cute; it's not my fault. Don't you think so, Minerva?"

Minerva smiled again and shrugged, embarrassed to admit anything about her own crush, which had nothing to do with a teacher and quite a lot to do with a Ravenclaw Prefect, who looked at her only to wonder why it was that some Gryffindor mixed-blood was Head Girl and in his range of vision.

"Seriously," Julia said, rising. "I mean, I'm not gross, the teacher thing is a problem, but he's just classically good looking..." Not getting a reaction from either of them, she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine, be that way. But come on, or we'll miss his class. And even if you don't think he's cute, you have to admit he's interesting."

The Curses and Countercurses classroom was a large one, and bore more resemblance to a private study than a public lecture hall. The walls were covered by bookshelves, maps, and pictures, sometimes all three, and it had the comfortable air of a room in which a great deal of learning has taken place.

Three of the walls were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves; the fourth, at the front of the room, had a small window and a blackboard, with a clock on top. Every bookshelf was full to bursting with leather-bound almanacs, manuscripts, reference tomes, and loose paper, and in front of them were posters and parchments pinned up wherever there was space. The hangings were almost more interesting than the class; they were always changing week to week and were all about fascinating topics like what to do if one met a werewolf and specific traits of dementors. On one side there was a live Fire Crab in a clear, sandy aquarium. Something new was always happening somewhere in the room, and it was all Minerva, Julia, and Evan could do to tear their eyes away and find seats.

Professor Schwartz entered the room exactly on time. As always, he looked as if a he contained far too much energy for any normal wizard. He seemed to be a bundle of nerves and buoyancy, flitting from one thing to the next and back again, never stopping long. He was obviously very intelligent, but Minerva couldn't imagine how he relaxed enough to ever sleep. He made a quick gesture to the students to find seats while he set down his bag and took out parchment and ink. Professor Schwartz was not the type to waste time with seating assignments or syllabi.

"Good morning, class. Take out your textbooks, open to page thirty, start at the beginning of the lesson on shielding," he said, filling out the top of a roll parchment. "Raise your hand as I call roll, read whenever you're not raising. Tinita Arroyo. Very good. Martha Beckett. Beckett, Beckett, oh, there you are. Roger Bennington. Excellent, I see you there. Cera Brighton."

As soon as he finished with roll ("Ethelinda Whitrow? Wonderful!"), he dropped the parchment down on his desk irreverently and began pacing around the room. "All right, everyone, stand up, shake out, and up with the shield, we're just going to test it a bit, no need to be nervous, just want to make sure you haven't forgotten anything over the summer. This should all be review. Excellent, everyone ready? Stupefy! Stupefy! Whoops, caught him off guard there, Ennervate! You were nearly dead there for a moment, Casey, get that shield up, very good. Stupefy! Much better. Impedimenta! Very good, Brighton. Tarantallegra! Whoa, there, Beckett, got to be ready for anything, don't know what I'm going to try. They'll stop on their own in a minute. Stupefy!"

Minerva caught Julia's eye and grinned at her, happy for the challenge. After that it took all her concentration to maintain her shield. Schwartz shot various minor curses at them, changing every few seconds, making them respond quickly. It was a favorite trick of his to focus on one section of the room and then suddenly jump to someone on the other side who might have been relaxing control. He knocked several of the slower ones out that way before the students began catching on. After thirty minutes of "practice," he put down his wand and bowed to them all.

"Excellent job, everyone. Now that we've all had some nice, relaxing practice time" -- the class groaned -- "is everyone ready for a little competition? From now on I'll just be hitting you all with Stunning Spells, and just won't wake you up until it's all over. Last one standing will be the winner. Everyone ready? Right then, very good. Stupefy!"

I'm dead for sure, Minerva thought. Not good under pressure, any pressure, especially not competitive pressure ... got that one! She spared a second of concentration for a glance around her -- everyone was still standing except, oh, Henry Trent was down, now came Martha Beckett, a spell came whizzing at Minerva again, blocked that one! Cera Brighton was doing quite well, Evan and Julia were still up, down came Rory Demos, Tinita was hit, Laura was hit, both shields maintained...

The game went on until only Evan, Minerva, Tom, and Cera were left standing. The spells came thick and fast at all of them, and after the effort they had already expended maintaining the shield for nearly an hour, the four of them were breathing hard. Their classmates lay around them in odd poses, knocked out by the Stunning Spells. Minerva, exhausted by the effort, could barely see, and her shield was starting to shimmer and glitter visibly, a bad sign. Evan too was buckling. Another spell, and he was down, the air around him sparkling with the last shattered remains of his shield.

She tried to shake her head to clear it, but the second of inattention cost her the game. Bugger it all, she thought, as blackness closed in around her.

"Well, there, McGonagall. Had a nice little nap?" Professor Schwartz was standing over her. He gave her a hand up, then moved on to the next student. "Ennervate! All right there, Tonicelli?"

Minerva blinked a few times, testing her balance and surroundings. She rubbed her forehead gingerly, expecting a headache. It didn't come, but she kept testing for it at the corners of her mind, wondering how long it would take to arrive. "Who won?" she asked softly, to no one in particular, looking around the room at the others, only about half of whom were standing.

Tom Riddle, who had just woken up, uttered a short laugh. "Cera," he said, smiling grimly. "I went down just a few minutes after you, Minerva. Good showing, there." She ducked her head, uncomfortable at the compliment. When she looked back at him, she saw his cheeks turn red. He was embarrassed at the loss, she could tell, but he was trying not to show it. She watched him for a second as he helped Ethelinda rise to her feet, putting his arm gently around her shoulders. Then she turned to find Evan and Julia behind her.

"Did you win?" Julia asked. "I went down before he could shake his wand twice; I hate competitions. But you two looked to be doing well."

"No," Minerva answered. "I was third, I think. Cera won. Tom Riddle came close. I only lasted a second longer than Evan."

"Figures," Julia said. "Ah, well. What've we got next?"

"Transfiguration," Minerva said promptly, without bothering to look at her schedule. "In that little room off the library."

"Right then, you're all dismissed," Schwartz's voice rang over the room. "And I want forty centimeters for tomorrow, on proper composition of a shielding spell and the reasons it's hard to maintain for long periods of time. See you all tomorrow morning, bright and early."

"Yessir," the class chorused, filing out into the hall.

"That was intense," Julia said, shaking her head. "Figures Cera would win."

"Thank you for the restatement," Evan answered, looking after Cera as she passed down the hall.

Minerva looked at Julia, expecting her to take offense, but the petite girl only smiled mischievously. "Oh, you're just upset Cera won, and saw you get knocked out," she said, giggling.

" ‘Irritated at your habit of pointing out the obvious and then jumping to odd conclusions' would better describe my feelings."

"Of course," Julia said, nodding sagely and smirking.

Minerva smiled shyly as Julia burst out laughing and Evan allowed a grin to spread over his face. It was fun to listen to them joke like that, as long as she focussed on that and not jealousy that they were so comfortable with each other. That was a horrid thing to be jealous of, she reminded herself firmly as they rounded a corner. Be happy they want to include you.

They filed into the small Transfiguration room and found seats together, at the front, because Minerva went there as a matter of course. She loved Transfiguration, was almost embarrassed by how much she loved it, and was good at it too, she knew. You didn't get to become an underage, unregistered Animagus unless you had a pretty good understanding of transforming things into other things. Minerva smiled a little, thinking with pride of her secret ability. She must be doing something right, she figured.

"Good morning, class," Professor Dumbledore said, entering the room. He looked over the room, nodding at them, eyes sharp and alert. "If you would please take out your books, we can begin.

"We will focus for this term on Transubstantial Transfiguration. You should understand that this is one of the most difficult forms of the subject, and your success may be limited at first. Transubstantial Transfiguration refers to the transfiguration of one object into another while still maintaining the appearance of the first. . ."

Wednesday afternoon they had the last of their new classes: Advanced Charms & Enchantments, followed by History of Magic. The Charms class was large, and their teacher, the young blonde woman Minerva had noticed at the opening feast, looked intimidated. She was only a few years older than the seventh-years, and looked even younger than she was. She called roll in a soft voice with a French accent that stressed syllables whether she meant to or not ("Meeneyrrvah?"), and set them to work reading about Drought Charms. Most of the students found this frustrating.

"We did this, back in third year," Cera complained quietly to Minerva. "I know this backwards and forwards anyway."

Professor Etoile, hearing her, blushed pink. "I em sorry yoo find zis so simple," she said. "But perhaps you would like to learn as much as possible, and so will not mind the brief review."

"No, ma'am, of course not," Cera answered, looking back insolently. Etoile moved away, and Cera rolled her eyes.

History of Magic was far and away their most boring class, even coming after Charms. Professor Binns looked almost as old as Professor Dippet, and many of the more irreverent students were curious about which one would retire -- voluntarily or involuntarily -- first. Binns was the general choice, for although rumor held that he had once been, if not interesting, at least not a cure for insomnia, all that had disappeared with age. His dry, reedy voice began lecturing promptly at the start of class and ended promptly at the termination of class, and never once did he stop in the middle or say anything worth hearing. Binns had a talent for making even the bloody battles of Wizards' Reformation and the resulting creation of the barriers dull.

"And we've got the two of them again, on Friday afternoon," Julia lamented. "How did we wind up with this schedule?"

Evan merely smiled and clapped Julia on the back. "Poor thing, what shall you do?"

"Take a nap, probably."

"I hate Curses," Julia complained, throwing down her book with a sigh. It was a small workbook, too thin to make any real sound hitting the table, and Julia looked at it, her irritation increased by the light landing.

"I believe most wizards are not overly fond of curses," Evan said, his mouth twitching with amusement.

Julia shot him a disparaging look. "I meant Schwartz's class, dope," she replied, sounding as if she would have been angry, if homework hadn't drained all her energy.

"What's the trouble?" Minerva asked, secretly glad to shove aside her Herbology homework. She didn't want to complain, but she was not at all fond of trying to memorize plants and their properties.

"Right, so Schwartz wants this question sheet about shields done," Julia said, "and none of it makes any sense. I mean, he's asking about the forces behind the shield and why it works the way it does, and there's nothing about that in the reading."

"It was in the lecture notes," Minerva said. "He brought it up in class. It has to do with creating a barrier for yourself, and by forces what he really means is how much energy you put into deflection and how much into brute strength."

"Oh," said Julia, uncertainly. "So then this one, how is it similar and different from the barriers shielding wizards from Muggles?"

"It's not really all that similar at all," Minerva said. "I'm not sure why he included that question. Some of the elements of force and hiding are the same, but the deflection element that has to exist for magic in a protective shield is virtually nonexistent in the barriers. I mean, there's a deflection element for physical things, so we don't bump into each other, but not much, and almost nothing for magic. The barriers are a lot more complex, too, for all kinds of reasons."

"So I just say that the hiding is the same and the deflection is different. I think I get it."

"Glad to be of service." Minerva smiled. She knew she shouldn't help Julia too much, but it was one of the few interactions she felt confident in. Say whatever else you would about her social skills, but Minerva knew her own talents, and one of them was explaining things.

She let out a sigh as she went back to her Herbology. If only that made as much sense to her as Runes and Transfiguration did. She looked up at Julia, wishing she could ask for help, but not feeling comfortable enough to actually do so.

Julia caught her gaze and grinned. "Don't tell me you're having trouble with something," she said, smiling.

"Just this Herbology," Minerva answered. "I can't keep it straight at all. I suppose I should study more, but it's so hard to memorize. . ."

"Let's see... oh, I get it, you wrote them out alphabetically. Very organized. But it might make more sense for you if you organized them differently... see these two are in the same family, that's why you look after them the same way..."

Quidditch tryouts were held a week later, just as Minerva was beginning to adjust to her routine. The captain this year was Valkyrie Rose Teasney, a sixth year, pretty and popular and an excellent Beater. She'd been chosen because she was probably one of the best players they had, but her priorities weren't suited to captaining. Her face coated with sweat and make up, she felt the need to demonstrate her authority early and often. "McGonagall! Give that Keeper something to do!" "Head Girl, maybe you're too busy to write down these names for me?" "All you seventh years! You're not automatically on this team simply because you used to be!"

"No," Evan agreed softly to Minerva. "We are automatically on the team, however, since we require seven players, and there are only six people at tryouts, captain included."

Minerva giggled.

When the lists were posted the next day, they were indeed on the team, along with everyone else who tried out, and Val's best friend's boyfriend. "Training starts Monday, after class," Val said, noticing their interest. "Don't be late."

They weren't late, but they may as well have been. By the time Valkyrie arrived, disengaged herself from her horde of fifth and sixth year friends and followers, and got around to starting practice, they only had half an hour until dinner. Minerva and Evan shared a knowing look as they mounted their brooms and began. It would be a long year.