That week Zara decided that she had had enough.

Much to her regret, and to the regret of many other students, Professor Grubbly-Plank had finally been replaced by Rubeus Hagrid, who was returning from Merlin knew where —not that Zara was too interested to ask. It wasn't that she disliked the half-giant, but she definitely wasn't a big fan of his classes; while Draco Malfoy wasn't her cup of tea, it was a bit dangerous that someone always got hurt. Still, she had shot withering glances at Dolores Umbridge when she had strutted with her foul half-smile on her lips around the students, looking for any excuse to discredit the professor.

Then she had been joined by Parkinson's hurtful comment, who despite not thinking much of her, managed to get her off her rocker with insulting ease. "Miss Markey, is it?" Umbridge had asked, standing beside her as she smiled and held the quill. Zara had merely nodded. "Can you tell me how you like Professor Hagrid's classes, do you think you're learning anything?" she asked.

Zara opened her mouth to answer, defending Hagrid because she knew he was held in high esteem by many of her friends, but Pansy Parkinson was quicker to open her big mouth. "Don't exactly ask her, Professor Umbridge, because she's repeated a year. She clearly never learns anything," Pansy found it hard to say without laughing openly in front of the rest of the students. Zara clenched her fists in fury and bit her tongue, for she knew that if she spoke, she would be in for at least two weeks of detention. Umbridge clicked her tongue at the comment and walked away, her heels sinking into the damp ground and making a disgusting noise.

"Don't pay her any mind," Ron whispered near her, turning to check that none of the Slytherins were around. "They're just trying to provoke you."

"Whatever. She's right, anyway," Zara merely replied back, losing herself among the rest of the students and walking away from the golden trio, who shared complicit but sad looks.

Zara had spent that afternoon cooped up in her room, thankful that none of her classmates had a life as bitter as hers to spend the day in bed. She folded her arms and stared at the ceiling for a long moment, wondering if she really was as stupid as Pansy had painted her. She knew better than to listen to the comments of that group of gits, but when they picked on her insecurities it was a different story. She'd had a hard enough time that summer with repeating her year and Cedric's death, without Pansy coming along and laughing at her in front of everyone.

And, to top it all off, the way the week had ended had been horrible. The last class before Dumbledore's Army Christmas break had been a disaster. Zara had been dragging all her troubles and aches and pains from the week, so her Impedimentas had been no success —luckily, this time Ron had decided to be brave and pair up with Hermione, so Zara had been with Neville, who wasn't exactly shining in his abilities either.

She had been extremely happy inside when Harry had declared that it was the end of the session, and that maybe after the holidays they could start on something more exciting, like their Patronuses. Zara came out first, but with all the hubbub of the others and the mess in her head, she realised that she had forgotten to grab her jacket. However, when she peeked her head back into the room, Harry and Cho were kissing and her vision blurred momentarily. She decided that she would get a better jacket, or retrieve it when she returned, but she refused to go in.

So she ran through the corridors, but not in the direction of the Common Room, but to the first floor. It was cold, it was already December, and without the jacket she had just lost, going outside the castle was a mistake: first, because they might see her and punish her; second, because she might catch a cold, and hearing her parents talk about her cold at Christmas was not something she was looking forward to. But she didn't know where else to go, or what else to do, so she made her way slyly to the Quidditch pitch, hiding momentarily behind the bleachers and the stands so that no one could see her —in case anyone was around.

She picked up her wand, charming a stick and a stone she had found along the way, and following the same instructions she had learned with Hermione, though with very different aims, converted them into a bat and a small ball, respectively. She threw the ball into the air, and as it came down, she swung with all her might, causing the ball to shoot skyward, and Zara gasped from the effort and the adrenaline.

She could no longer ignore what was happening. It couldn't be that they were forgetting Cedric so quickly, she couldn't let them sully his memory like that. She repeated the process again, as the ball came back like a boomerang, and she swung angrily at the strike again. She didn't stop to think about whether Cho and Harry's feelings predated Cedric, whether they were real, at least: all she could think about was how deluded she felt, how Cedric would feel if he weren't dead.

She hated how she felt right now. She hated feeling the bitterness and the venom coursing through her veins, because deep down she knew that none of what was happening was anyone's fault. But she needed to blame someone, she needed to comfort herself, to tell herself that what was happening wasn't a creation of her head and that she shouldn't blame herself. She hated that everyone seemed to forget about Cedric so quickly. He had been so beloved at Hogwarts as one of the tournament champions, had even given his life in there, and now that he was dead, the fad of remembering him had passed in a matter of three months.

"Hey, you," she heard from behind her, and she turned quickly, wiping away her tears as if nothing had happened.

Angelina Johnson stared at her in silence until Zara decided to speak. "If you're here to tell me that I'm out of the castle at this hour and therefore endangering the reputation of Gryffindor, let me tell you that I don't care," Zara looked at her defiantly, remembering word for word what Hermione always said.

"Not really," Angelina smiled, "I was just about to go to sleep, but I looked out the window and saw that there was someone on the Quidditch pitch. Do you always bat like that?"

Zara shrugged. "Only when I'm angry, I guess."

"And what made you so angry? Because it's been a while since I've seen anyone hit like that," Angelina hissed a little, showing her shock.

"My week has been shitty. I was looking for a way to blow off some steam, and I was doing that until you interrupted me," Zara gave her a short look, as if to indicate that she could walk away and leave her alone. Zara raised the ball in the air again, hitting it with slightly less force than before, feeling watched, but she heard Angelina behind her again, this time clapping her hands.

"We have to tell McGonagall about this," the older girl muttered, grabbing the other by the arm, causing her to drop the bat to the ground, instantly turning back into a stick. "It's late, but I'm sure if we tell her how important it is she won't punish us..."

"Hey, hey, wait," Zara, who was being dragged to the entrance of the castle, tried to interrupt. "What do you mean, tell her? Are you mad? She's bound to give us a detention; or worse, we meet Filch on the way and have to see his filthy cat."

"You're joking, aren't you? Ever since Harry, Fred and George were suspended for life from the team, I've been looking day and night for someone to replace them with. I've found someone to be a seeker and two beaters, but I'm sure what you just did down there is enough to take the place of either of them. We're pretty short on beaters in Gryffindor, I don't know what Harry will do when Fred, George and I leave and he has to find new beaters...," Angelina rambled out loud as Zara listened to her.

"But, Angelina, I can't replace them. McGonagall told me that—"

Angelina shushed her suddenly, dragging her with her into a wall to keep Filch's lantern from shining on them. Luckily, they both breathed in silence, long enough for Mrs. Norris not even to see what was going on in that corner. The team captain merely nodded silently as Filch left, leaving the way clear for McGonagall's dormitory. Zara composed a grimace on her face —she couldn't imagine what the professor's nightclothes looked like, and she wasn't sure she wanted to either.

Angelina tapped lightly on her door, hardly thinking of the repercussions if the professor refused to answer them. She was so intent on getting people for her team that she didn't care if McGonagall was angry; on the contrary, she was sure she would be just as excited as she was.

The door opened shortly after, McGonagall peeking out slightly with the tousled bun on her head and glasses sliding down the bridge of her bony nose, a puzzled look on her face as she saw the two Gryffindor's appear.

"What is this time of day, ladies, what's going on?"

"You see, Professor, the circumstances under which I discovered this are irrelevant, but we already have a new replacement for the twins on the team. I need you to sign her up right now, as we don't know what Umbridge will come up with tomorrow to screw up the Cup for us."

McGonagall looked at Zara, as if asking for an explanation. "I knew nothing about this, Professor, I promise you. I tried to tell her that you told me at the beginning of term that I should focus on my studies, that the Quidditch team couldn't be a priority for me."

The Gryffindor Head shared a glance with Angelina, who nodded fervently with a huge smile on her face. She then looked at Zara, who swallowed as if she sensed she was going to get in trouble. "Well, people can change their minds, Miss Markey," McGonagall simply replied. "Your class participations have improved markedly, even in Potions, so it's up to you if you want to return to the team as a Beater. Of course, if you're as good as Miss Johnson claims, we'll have a better chance of getting the Cup and wiping that bloody arrogant grin off Um—" McGonagall cut herself off, realising she might be sounding aggressive, so she corrected her behaviour with a small cough. "I meant to say that I trust your judgement. You can do as you see fit, Miss Markey."

Zara bit her cheek inwardly, not knowing what to reply. She felt like she was really improving in her classes thanks to Hermione, and she didn't want to throw it all away at the slightest opportunity that presented itself. It was obvious that Quidditch would take up a lot of her time, between training and matches, and she might have to cut her sessions with Hermione short. She imagined the girl frowning, showing slight disappointment that the girl had chosen Quidditch over classes, and Zara huffed.

"Could I think about it tonight? I'll have to talk to Hermione to see if this would be a bother for our sessions..."

Both McGonagall and Angelina looked surprised by the answer. McGonagall cleared her throat. "Of course, Miss Markey. That shows great maturity on your part. We'll talk tomorrow, all right? Now go and get some rest. And see that no other professor catches you on your way to bed," she glanced over her glasses, giving them a nod and closing the door.

"Is the team that bad?" Zara ventured to ask as they were on their way to the seventh floor.

Angelina complained loudly. "We've lost three of our best players. Fred and George were veterans in their position, it's proving incredibly difficult to find people who can replace them without looking like complete idiots. Harry is very young but he's been proving himself to be a good seeker since first year, so imagine how we're doing. Still, Ginny Weasley tried out for the trials, and although she normally says she plays as a chaser, she's not bad at being a seeker, so at least we've got that position covered. We're not doing too badly for chasers, but I'm leaving next year and there aren't even any people applying for the position. As for Ron... Well, he's got good skills, but the games and training he's doing suck. I hope he gets his morale up this Christmas, or we're going to have some serious problems in the hoops."

"Well, maybe next year will go better. You know, with Harry's popularity maybe people will want to try out," Zara didn't intend to, but she bit her tongue after saying popularity.

"Yeah, well, they better, because no one wants Slytherin to win the bloody Cup," Angelina muttered under her breath, trying not to upset the Fat Lady too much. "Listen, I'm sorry if I've been too direct or pushed you. It's just that between the suspensions and it being my last year, I want it to go as well as possible. If you need anything personally, you know you can count on me, right?"

Zara nodded with a weak smile, knowing she was incapable of sharing her concerns lest she come across as crazy. "Thank you, Angie. I hope as much as you do that the team does well. After what Malfoy said to the twins, I'm looking forward to wiping that smile off his face with the bat if I have to."

Angelina patted her gently on the shoulder as they entered the Common Room, and her surprise was great to see that Harry, Ron and Hermione were still down there, warming themselves by the lit fireplace. A bittersweet feeling came over Zara as she remembered what she had witnessed hours before, so she decided to say goodbye to them and Angelina without giving them any more thought, the three Gryffindors frowning as they watched a defeated Zara walk away from them.

Zara was already lying on her bed, her back to the door, when Hermione walked in. It hadn't taken five minutes since Zara had said goodnight to them, so she presumed she wasn't sleeping. "Something wrong?" whispered Hermione close to her bed so as not to disturb Lavender and Parvati, who were sleeping soundly. "You've been a bit absent these past few days," the Gryffindor added after a brief silence.

The blonde simply stirred in the sheets, grunting a little but shaking her head, as if to tell Hermione that nothing was wrong, and to leave her alone because she wanted to sleep. "Bad week," she merely replied without further explanation.

And Hermione didn't ask for them either, because it wasn't that they were friends, it was that she was her tutor, and even though they spent almost more hours together than with Harry or Ron, she had no right to ask for explanations because she didn't know what place she occupied in Zara's life either. Still, she couldn't deny that her heart fluttered a little as Zara slowly rolled over in bed; she'd never had a female companion all those years, so the fact that the blonde was considering telling her things and dumping her worries on her made her feel good.

"Well, I have something to tell you. Or ask you, rather," she sat up in bed, pulling the covers off of herself. Hermione nodded, encouraging her to speak. "Angelina wants me on the team. Quidditch team," she clarified quickly at Hermione's confused look. "I told her I'd have to check with you first. I know you're spending a lot of your time helping me, so it wouldn't be fair in accepting the position without knowing your opinion first. Do you think I could combine the two?"

"Well, I don't know much about Quidditch, but it seems to make a lot of people happy. I think you're making good progress, it's just been a difficult time for you, but maybe McGonagall wanted to make sure you were keeping up with everything. If McGonagall agrees, we can cut down on study sessions so you can balance it with Quidditch training."

Zara's eyes went wide. "Really? Well, I can tell her that I'll be the substitute beater, so I can check if I'm still passing and at the same time I can go to practice," the blonde spoke very quickly, as if trying to convince Hermione, who shook her head with a smile.

"You'll be fine, Zara. If you keep going the way you're going, you'll pass your OWLs without hardly noticing. It's a lot easier and less of a chore studying with you, but don't tell Harry and Ron."

Zara giggled a tiny bit as she stood up from the bed, and on impulse she wrapped her arms around Hermione and lifted her a few inches off the floor, visibly happy. "Great. Okay. I promise I'll try harder not to miss anything. Thanks, Hermione. I'm going to go tell Ginny right now."

Hermione laughed softly, shaking her head and flinching a little at the sudden physical contact. She slipped into bed without warning Zara that hanging around the rooms at this hour was not a moral thing to do, because it seemed the blonde needed that good news.

The older girl slipped into Ginny's room, trying not to make too much noise so as not to disturb the other girls. She knew them only by sight in the corridors, and because they were Ginny's friends, but the truth was that she didn't have any kind of relationship with them, so if they saw her there at that time of night, they might be in for a surprise. Zara walked over to Ginny's bed, who was sleeping peacefully, and shook her body unceremoniously but quietly.

"What—?"

"When were you planning on telling me you were going to be the next Gryffindor seeker?" Zara said only, giving her a small smack on the head.

"Hey!" Ginny protested between whispers. "Well I was going to tell you, but not at twelve at night, you idiot."

"Now that I know that, it's only fair that you know that I'm going to be one of the beaters," Zara smiled, proudly.

Ginny rubbed her eyes and opened them wide. "What? Really? I thought McGonagall recommended you not to play Quidditch this year."

"McGonagall has recommended that I take the position. I think any contribution made to the team to prevent Slytherin from winning the Cup will make her happy."

The redhead smiled broadly and pulled Zara to herself, hugging her tightly and pulling her into bed in the warmth of her sheets. "That's great, Zara, we're going to play together! And we'll give Malfoy and his friends their comeuppance while we're at it. I want to see Fred and George's faces when they find out."

They went on talking about dozens of things, enchanting their bed so the other girls wouldn't find out anything, and Zara didn't even know when she fell asleep, but when they woke her up it wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world. She opened her eyes and almost jumped when she saw McGonagall peering out of bed, her eyes surveying the scene, and beside her, Ginny frowned.

"I'll let this go just for once," she warned them, but then her gesture became even more serious. "Miss Weasley, you must accompany me to Dumbledore's office. There has been an emergency, and you and the rest of your siblings have already been notified. Put on some warm clothes and come with me."

"But what's happened?" insisted Ginny, rubbing her eyes to clear them for the second time that night.

McGonagall looked genuinely distressed, as her eyes and voice showed. "Your father has suffered an attack at the Ministry. They've been alerted thanks to Potter. He is now at St. Mungo's, awaiting a diagnosis. So come on, hurry up."

"What?" interjected Zara, worried. "I want to go too."

"Miss Markey—"

"Zara's coming with us," Ginny sentenced, and McGonagall had no choice but to agree.