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Prologue: A trip down memory lane.
“There she comes,” students whisper. As I enter people gasp, a couple of students faint, but I’m not surprised. I’m used to these sort of reactions to my appearance. Time slows down as I walk to my seat with all eyes on me. Girls admire my grace, boys marvel at my beauty. Sigh. It could have been so beautiful.
Today I am a carpet.
The second day of my fifth year at Hogwarts and it’s tripping time again. I am concentrating so hard on walking straight and not falling over imaginary objects that I miss the real person coming towards me. “Hi Chloe.” It’s Sam. It’s me looking up and seeing Sam too late. It’s me bumping into Sam. It’s Sam and me lying on the floor.
The fabulous fantastic flying carpets!
“We had a conversation about carpets last week. I’m Oliver, by the way,” Oliver says. As if I don’t know who he is ánd need to be reminded of the extreme stupidity I had displayed. “Hi. I’m Chloe. You remember?” “Well, it’s not everyday a girl tells me she thinks she might be a carpet. I think you should be the flying variant,” he grins. “Why? Because it’s much funnier if I bump into things in the air?”
A huff and puffing Gryffindor.
“You said you’d like that? Well, that’s denial for you right there,” Sam says triumphantly. The three of us are sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room at night, Michael is nose-deep in his book doing assignments and sulkily listening in on our conversation at the same time. “What?” I question. “Denial, denial, denial.”
The Big Bad Wood
“I like you, Oliver. I really like you. Not only do I think you’re nice and funny, but when I’m near you I wonder what it would be like to kiss you. I’m in love with you. You’re Chloe’s crush,” I stammered.
Once upon a time...I fell down the stairs
“Hi Chloe. Are you feeling better?” Oliver says, mimicking Madame Pomfrey’s concerned expression. I kind of don’t answer him and we’re engulfed in a rather painful silence, which Oliver tries to escape by almost unnoticeably inching backwards. But he stops once I pin him done with my glare of death.
Chloe and the way of the weasel.
“Hi Oliver. So, how are things going with Sweety, Candy, Mindy, Dusty, Wendy?”
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