"Miss Granger, this is Professor Snape's daughter, TJ Shelby. I was hoping you might have time to show her around Hogwarts," McGonagall introduced the girls. "Sure I will. Why don't you finish breakfast with us?" Tirza nodded and sat next to her. "Thanks!" "I'm Hermione, and this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter." Tirza smiled at the boys. "Ron and I know the school as well as Hermione. Mind if we come with?" Harry asked. She nodded. Hermione looked confused. "Don't you have quidditch practice?" Harry nodded. "Not till later though." "Umm, what's quidditch? And what here is safe to eat?" Tirza asked.
McGonagall had returned to her seat, ignoring Snape's deadly glare. "You just couldn't stand yourself, could?" Minerva turned to him. "Really Severus, I have no idea what you mean." "You know exactly what I mean; getting my daughter mixed up with Gryffindors. And Potter and his group no less," he growled. Minerva chuckled softly and continued her breakfast.
Almost two hours later, Tirza, Ron and Hermione tagged along with Harry to watch his practice. Harry took off on his broom with a wave to the girls and Ron. "Dude, that is so awesome! I didn't know you guys could fly on brooms!" A weird look came over Ron's face. "You didn't? Your mum's a witch; your dad is a wizard, right? So aren't you a witch?" Tirza bit her bottom lip, thinking. "Ya know, I never thought of that. If my mom went to school here, she must have been a witch. I wonder why she didn't tell me." "She never told you?" Hermione asked softly. Tirza shook her head, dark curls bouncing. "My mom never really talked about stuff that happened before I was born. All I even knew of my dad was that I looked like him. I think she missed him." Tirza fell silent, thinking of her mother and how much she missed her. She blinked away the tears that she felt coming.
After practice, Harry flew down to walk back with Tirza, Ron and Hermione. "Wow, you were sure great! What a cool game!" Harry smiled. "Can I fly on your broom? Please!" she begged. "Sure, I can teach you." Hermione's eyes went wide. "I don't think that's such a good idea." Ron shrugged. "We'll be here watching, what could it hurt?" Hermione didn't look convinced.
"Now, stand on the left side of the broom and hold your arm out and say 'up!'" Tirza stood beside Harry's broom. "Up!" she commanded. The broom lay still on the ground. "Up," again, the broom did nothing. "Up!" she shouted. The broom shot into her hand. "Whoa. cool!" Harry smiled. "Now sit on it. Hold on tight, TJ, then kick up for a few seconds." Tirza kicked off from the ground, hovering beside Harry. "Great, now come back down." As she tried to return to the ground, the broom suddenly went crazy and flew high in the air. "Oh my god! Harry, do something!" Hermione yelled. "Hang on TJ, don't let go!"
Tirza screamed as the broom zigzagged through the air, barely able to hang. "Somebody fucking help me!" The broom twisted and Tirza started to fall. "Oh my god, I gonna die! HELP!" Her hands started to sweat, making her lose the grip on the broom. "What are we gonna do?" Harry panicked. "If she gets hurt, Snape's gonna kill us!" Ron told him. "I told you this was a bad idea," Hermione retorted. Suddenly there was a flash of Gryffindor maroon, heading for Tirza. "It's Wood!" Harry yelled.
Tirza was clinging to the broom for dear life, unable to swing herself back onto it. She saw a boy on another broom flying towards her. "Help! Please help!" Wood came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Let go, I've got ya." Tirza released the broom that sailed to the ground. Wood sat her on his broom and out both arms around her. "Are you alright?" Tirza's world was still spinning and she leaned against him as he headed towards the ground.
Harry, Ron and Hermione ran towards Wood and Tirza as they came down. Suddenly an angry deep voice yelled from behind them. "Bloody Merlin! What is going on here?" They spun around to see an angry Snape charging towards them; from the look on his face, they knew he had seen the whole thing. "Uh oh," Ron whispered in a high pitched voice.