To avoid trouble, we didn’t say a word about the incident to anyone, which was really hard and not fair. However, the approaching first quidditch match forced everyone at our dinner table to be silent while Marcus Flint raved loudly about his team. 

“We’re not going to win unless you actually follow the rules this year, Flint.” Gemma said, rubbing her temples and trying to concentrate on potions homework.

“Oh, please. My lineup could beat Gryffindor on foot. We could take them blindfolded. They don’t stand a chance.” Flint banged his fist on the table and shouted,  “SLYTHERIN-- FOR THE WIN!”

“SLYTHERIN-- FOR THE WIN!!” Everyone but Gemma shouted in reply.

“Is that our new catchphrase?” She grumbled. “I liked the old one better.”

“Are you going to the match?” I asked Tracy. She nodded. “What?! But all it is is just sports on broomsticks. What’s so great about quidditch? Why do people even like watching sports anyways? It’s not like you’re effecting the game at all. Quidditch matches are just stupid.” 

“Everyone goes.” Tracy said bluntly.

“Is it mandatory? Because that would be stupid.”

“No.”

“Well, then, I’m not going.”

Because I didn’t have to wake up early for classes or quidditch the next day, I decided to stay up reading a cookbook called Charm Your Own Cheese. All the lights were off, because a third-year named Terrence Higgs couldn’t get his schoolbooks to stop glowing after he flubbed the lumos charm, and he thought that if he just left them in the dark long enough they might burn out and go back to normal. I read by candlelight.

It was midnight when I heard the tap tap tap on the glass. I’d been writing down useful recipes like “Levitating Soufflé” and “Musical Bratwurst”, and the sound came as a surprise. In disbelief, I glanced slowly at the window.

The mermaid was back.

I let out a startled squeak and threw my book onto the ground on accident. The mermaid grinned at me. She was holding something in her green webbed hand, and she held it up for me to see.

“Woah.” I said. It was a little statue, carved out of driftwood. It was a little person. It looked like a young girl, with blue beads for eyes, and a shell of hair around her head. “Is that me?” I asked silently. She pointed to one of the drawings I’d done of her, and nodded at me. She put the little statue down on the ledge of the window, so that it was peering in on the common room. 

The mermaid gave me a last wave, and then with a flick of her tail disappeared upward, into the dark water.

The little statue was so pretty. I’d never felt more fulfilled before in my life. I sat in awe for minutes before finally realizing what this really meant:

I had proof that I was right. Indisputable proof. Right there, on the other side of the glass. I had won!

Perhaps Mikaela had gotten over the whole mermaid thing at that point, because she was just in a mood that day, but I definitely hadn’t. If only I could get her down to the Slytherin common room, I could do the “I am right” dance. I briefly considered using the Marauder’s map, but it was her turn to take care of it.

My mother had packed me about five disposable cameras, but I would have to go to a muggle Walgreens to get the pictures developed, and I didn’t have that kind of time. 

The only possible option would be to dive down into the Hogwarts Lake and get the statue myself. The problem with that was it was mid-November, and dead cold.

As I puzzled it over in my mind, my eyelids began to droop. 

I woke up to the terrible sound of team spirit. 

“SLYTHERIN-- FOR THE WIN!” Shouted Flint.

“SLYTHERIN-- FOR THE WIN!” Shouted everyone. “WHOOO!!” The applause was irritating.

“Noooo,” I muttered, and covered my head with a black throw pillow. People were laughing and talking excitedly, and I hated them for it.

A hand grabbed the pillow off my face. 

“Hey,” said the person attached to it, “You ready to see the match?”

“I’m not going.” I growled at him. It was Higgs, one of the players. I reached out to grab my pillow back, but Higgs tossed it behind him to Flint, who tossed it to Miles Bletchley, who volleyed it at one of the beaters. The beater spun melodramatically and tossed it back to Higgs, who finally gave it to me.

“It’ll be fun, though.” He said.

I glared at him, but didn’t go back to sleep. Instead I gathered up my cookbooks and left the whole sorry lot to their mob psychology as I set out to breakfast early.

The whole great hall was decked out in either red or green, from left to right. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw seemed mostly in support of Gryffindor, though I did see some green-and-silver flags in the Ravenclaw house.

Mikaela, I saw, was sitting at the Gryffindor table wearing a red-and-gold scarf, hat, and mittens. Well, fine, if she wanted to go the the match, I wouldn’t stop her. Instead, I would use reverse psychology. I sidled up to the Gryffindor table, gently sliding Ron Weasley out of the way so I could talk. Reverse psychology. Subtlety. 

“So,” I said casually, “Quidditch is stupid.”

Mikaela sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even seen a real match yet. You have to go, it’ll be fun.”

“Why would I want to watch a bunch of jocks flying around, hitting eachother?” I demanded. “I could fly around and hit people on my own time, thank you very much. I mean, what’s the point of watching a match you’re not playing in? It’s just lame. It’s like regular football, and I don’t even watch that.” 

“It’s wizard football, and you should come. You could bring a book,” she said hopefully. “Fantastic Beasts or Charm Your Own Cheese.”

“Bah. I’m bored of that one. I’ll be spending my Saturday,” I said as I stood up, “in the library.”

“Oh, good! That’s where I’m going as well.” chimed in Her-majesty Granger from across the table. “I really would like to see Harry play, but I’ve been spending so much time helping him with his homework, I’ve gotten a bit behind.” I groaned.

“You? Behind?” Ron scoffed from my other side. “I’d like to see that. All you do is homework, even when we’re all be having fun.”

“Not all of us write our potions essays ten minutes before class, Ron.”

“Some of us write them during,” I agreed. “Well, see you at the match.” I waved to Mikaela as I left the table, spinning back and accidentally hitting Harry Potter with my body because he was walking right there. 

“Oh! Sorry.” He said. I suddenly felt my cheeks turn hot for some reason. He probably thought I was one of his loser fangirls. Be cool, I told my brain.

“No probs, bro.” I said cooly. “Catch you on the flip-side, Harry... Harrykins.”

Dammit, brain.

Considerably more shaken up than he had been before, Harry joined his friends at their table, and I spent breakfast trying to secretly levitate Crabbe’s green-and-silver scarf off him because I didn’t have one.

Unfortunately, Hermione did show up at the Quidditch match. But luckily, I didn’t have to talk to her, because Mikaela had decided we were going to sit with the Hufflepuffs.

“I don’t want anyone to tease either of us because of house rivalry. All the super in-your-face fans are sitting with their own houses, so it’s either this or Ravenclaw.”

“Bah. Ravenclaw. They think they’re so cool.” I said unhappily. It was cold out and Professor Snape had made me take off my orange deerhunting hat because it ‘looks preposterous.’

“Some of them are nice. Like what about Michael Corner?”

“Who?”

“GRYFFINDORS SCORE!” Shouted Lee Jordan. The entire Gryffindor stand leapt and cheered. Mikaela clapped politely.

“Michael Corner. He’s a Ravenclaw. He’s in our year. He’s usually really quiet and kind of weird, but every now and then he just says something really funny, and everyone’s just like, what?”

Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle as the snitch flitted past his ear, and Alicia Spinnet swooped in to catch it. I clenched my fists.

“What are we going to do with the map next?” I asked casually.

“I dunno. Last time was sort of a close call.”

“If we’re more careful, I mean.”

“Slytherin in possession-- Flint with the Quaffle-- passes Spinnet-- passes Bell--- hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose-- only joking, Professor-- Slytherins score--- oh no...” Lee Jordan broadcasted.

The Slytherin stands leaped up and cheered wildly.

“Yay,” I said, doing a weak fist-pump, conscious of Mikaela’s slightly soured expression.

“Well, what if we found like a little secret room, and made it our hideout?” Mikaela said, returning to the conversation.

“What would we do with a hideout? Sell drugs?”

“It was just an idea.”

“What if we got a bunch of throw pillows, right? From both of our common rooms. And we decorated the floor of our hideout with them. And then maybe we could get some blankets to use as carpets, like that cool classroom we snuck into.”

“Sounds like a blanket fort.” Mikaela said. A moment of silence passed between the two of us as we both came to the same realization. “A giant blanket fort.” She whispered.

“Holy crap. We should have thought of this sooner!!” I shouted.

“We are a genius.” Mikaela said.

Harry Potter looked like he was having a seizure on his broom.

“Uh-oh.” Mikaela’s attention redirected toward the match.

“I know what that’s like,” I said, thinking of Mr. Tapey.

All of a sudden, Harry Potter did a rocketing nosedive toward the earth. Most of the people in the Hufflepuff stands stood up in shock, like gophers do. 

“Hey!” I yelled. I couldn’t see a thing.

Mikaela and I pushed our way to the front of the stands to see what was going on. 

Harry sat sprawled in the middle of the field, coughing. Something gold popped out of his mouth. He stared at it in amazement.

“I’ve got the Snitch!” He shouted, waving up at the Gryffindor Quidditch captain.

“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!” Lee Jordan shouted. 

“WHAT?!” I exploded.

“YES!!!!” Mikaela screeched.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!?! HE DAMN NEAR SWALLOWED IT, THAT’S NOT CATCHING!!” I raged.

“GRYFFINDOR! GRYFFINDOR! WHOOOOOOO!!!” Mikaela was roaring at the same time.

“GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!! FOUL!! THAT’S A FOUL AND YOU KNOW IT!!”

“GO HARRY!! HEY, FLINT!! YOUR LINEUP’S A LITTLE PATCHY, DON’T YOU THINK?! WHY DON’T YOU BUY YOURSELF SOME REAL PLAYERS!!”

“REMATCH! REMATCH! IT DOESN’T COUNT! OH, WHY DON’T YOU SHOVE THAT SNITCH BACK DOWN YOUR FACE AND CHOKE ON IT?!”

“HEY, REF! THAT WAS A LEGITIMATE PLAY! LEGITIMATE PLAY!”

A very large Hufflepuff seventh-year picked the two of us up by our coats and forcibly removed us from the stands. Embarrassed, we stalked back to the school, secretly planning what would be the Greatest Blanket Fort of All Time.