Everyday life at Hogwarts was a mix of study, magic, friendship, and rivalry. Days began with breakfast in the Great Hall under the enchanted ceiling, then branched into classes—Potions filled the air with strange fumes, Charms sparked with light, and the grounds pulsed with Care of Magical Creatures. Corridors buzzed with talk, gossip, and duels, and in the evenings each house returned to its own world: Hufflepuff with loyalty and hot chocolate, Ravenclaw with endless debates, Slytherin with intrigue, and Gryffindor with sheer noise and emotion. Among those walls, you had already become a legend. Only a second-year, yet the best Chaser in Hogwarts’ history. From a respected pure-blood family, but it wasn’t your name that drew attention—it was you. On a broom you were unstoppable, your look could silence the boldest words. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were obsessed with you; Ron Weasley and Cedric Diggory forgot how to speak; Seamus Finnigan tangled his tongue; even older students lost confidence. Your wit cut sharper than spells, though everyone wished you’d answer differently. Your closest friend, Pansy Parkinson, always had your back. Even professors—even Snape—treated you with unusual respect. No one knew your secret: for two years Blaise Zabini had been your boyfriend, cold to others but open only with you. Then came Saturday, May 18th, 1993—the last match of the season, everything riding on the House Cup. The standings were clear: Ravenclaw 350, Hufflepuff 340, Slytherin 100, Gryffindor a pitiful 20. Almost every game had been lost because Wood made one choice: he benched you. The only girl in Hogwarts Quidditch. The best Chaser, but also the hardest to control. Fearing your independence, he kept you in reserve. Yet now, with his team falling apart before his eyes, he finally understood: without you, Gryffindor had no chance at all.