Daphne and I waited until the rest of the students cleared out from the field. As they trickled away, a few asked Daphne some questions about the season, but they quickly headed back to the castle.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I asked as we lagged a considerable distance behind the others.

"Well, we have to talk to Professor Sprout, the Hufflepuff head of house," Daphne said.

"What for? Y'know somethin', I haven't really met her yet."

"Get ready to."

Daphne strode inside the castle ahead of me, and I had to quicken my pace to keep up. In the corridor, a shorter woman with a cherubic face and white curly hair waved to us and rushed over.

"Ms. Daphne, wonderful job with tryouts this afternoon," she shook her hand and turned towards me. "My goodness, we have a wonderful seeker for this year, surely, no doubt, yes? What do you think, Daphne?"

"Um, yeah. Absolutely."

"Hi, nice to formally meet you, Rollie. I'm Ms. Sprout. I'm sorry we haven't had the chance to meet face to face yet," she shook my hand and beamed. "I always get to know my students through classes, but alas, you're not in my schedule this semester."

"Hopefully in the near future," I smiled. "Nice to meet you too."

"Wow, I had no idea you were such a Quidditch talent! Nobody told me," Sprout's eyes twinkled.

"I didn't know either, and I'm his friend," Daphne eye-rolled.

"So… Daphne, I think it's only right to keep you as captain. Your leadership qualities are desperately needed for our team. Rollie, your ability alone puts you in the conversation, but due to her experience, Daphne is the best option we have. Although don't feel bad, Mr. Mapgie, I'll happily give you the password for the Prefect's Bathroom on the fifth floor."

"I didn't even know the prefect's had a bathroom," I chuckled.

"Captains of the Quidditch teams, head students, and prefects all share a bathroom on the fifth floor. The password is arctic frost," Sprout whispered. "Anyways. Congrats on making seeker. Oh! By the way, I meant to ask. Your last name is Magpie, correct?"

"Indeed."

"Any relation to the Montrose Magpie Quidditch team?"

Daphne's jaw dropped as if suddenly struck with a revelation she should have known.

"Yeah, my ancestors founded the team long ago. Or at least, that's what my grandpa tells me. In fact, he played on the team for many years."

Professor Sprout was star-struck. "Quidditch is in your blood! What was your grandfather's name?"

"Logan Magpie, but you probably haven't heard of him. He played many, many years ago and wasn't a starter, but! Those are his words, not mine," I exhaled a laugh.

"How wonderful. He must be so proud of you," Professor Sprout grinned. "Dinner is starting shortly in the Great Hall. See you there. You both should be excited for this season," her face was lit up as if we were her own children.

When she walked down the corridor, Daphne spun to face me and stared at me wide-eyed. "Okay, we need to talk. Rollie, how come you didn't tell me you were such a Quidditch talent?"

"Can I show you why? With your little pensieve-thing?"

"Oh, uh, it's a little bit of advanced magic to do. Have you done it before?"

"No… I haven't, but I'd be willing to give it my best shot. I think it's better to show you rather than tell you."

Daphne stared for a moment and frowned as she noticed my teary eyes. "Let's go to a place in the castle where we can have some privacy."

We were on the second floor of Hogwarts in a run down girl's lavatory. The sinks were chipped, the cracked mirror had a gray film over it, and the doors to the stalls had scratched and depressed wood. The floor was moist, which reflected the dull light coming from the stubby candles up above.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"A bathroom where a young girl tragically died decades ago. It's been shut down ever since," Daphne said.

"That's so sad," I felt my chest sink.

"Colloquially, it's known as Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but I don't care for that nickname, nor does she. Her name is Myrtle Warren, and she deserves some respect."

"Moaning Myrtle does sound rather rude," I said.

A ghost of a girl with glasses and big round eyes floated out from the stall. "You're right! It is rather rude!" she shrieked and scowled, but once she saw Daphne, she beamed. "Daphne! It's so good to see you, old friend. I always miss you over the summer. Love your hair."

"Thanks, Myrtle. I miss you too. This is my friend, Rollie Magpie."

"Hello, nice to meet you," I waved.

She gasped. "Is that an American accent? Wow, I don't think I've ever heard one when I was alive. A friend of Daphne's is a friend of mine, especially a boy with a green mohawk," she ogled at me for a moment. "What brings you here this evening? Another potion experiment?"

"No, actually, we're just going to be standing over by the sinks. I'm going to show Rollie how to use my portable pensieve."

"Have fun, let's catch up soon, and bring your friend anytime!" Myrtle giggled and swam backward, disappearing into the wall.

"That's Myrtle. Charming, right?" Daphne said, and I nodded.

Daphne led the way to the circular, run-down sink and brought her small stone cauldron from her bag, which glowed with a silver light. We sat on the ground cross-legged, only a few feet from each other.

"So, what you'll want to do is put your wand up to your head. Since you're new to this, you'll want to close your eyes and think. Deeply concentrate from the beginning of the memory, all the way to the end. One other thing to remember, as you recall the memory, repeat the spell: vita memoriae in your mind during the key moments. Are you ready?"

"Yes, I think so," I said.

"Close your eyes, and start by saying vita memoriae. Your wand will glow if you start correctly, and you'll even feel your mind pull you like a strong river current to the memory."

Vita memoriae… I waited a few seconds.

"Nothing," Daphne said. "Try again."

This process happened for another five minutes.

"Really think deep, Rollie."

"Could you maybe go to the other side of the room?" I suggested, but I didn't want her to move away.

"Oh, sure. We can try that. Am I making you nervous?"

"A little."

Daphne stood up, walked over to the stalls, and leaned against the wall, gazing at the ceiling. My heart settled down to a standard rate.

Vita memoriae…

A mental grip overtook my consciousness, like falling into a deep sleep. My eyes sealed shut, and my memory from Huntshrow came to life vibrantly, like living through a dream. Vita memoriae… I repeated over and over in my head… or was I saying it out loud?

I had reached the end of the memory and opened my eyes.

"Daphne!"

She sprinted over with a pursed brow but smirked when she saw me.

"Rollie! You have the memory! I see the white glow from your wand! Congrats!"

"I think I did it correctly, but I don't know," I took a deep breath.

"Put it in the pensieve, slowly and delicately," Daphne said in a teacher-like voice.

I lowered my wand into the tiny pot, and the memory swam inside. The bowl glowed brighter.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" Daphne said as both of us hovered our heads over the top.

It sucked us into a place I never wanted to revisit.

There I was, fourth-year, young Rollie, sitting in the courtyard at Huntshrow, a perfect view of the four towering turrets of each house ahead of me. Young Rollie was tossing bread crumbs to chipmunks.

Daphne and I were sitting on a bench in the corner, right by an entrance where three other boys were sizing me up from around the corner.

"Wow, the mohawk was pretty short back then," Daphne whispered and grinned.

I gave a half-smile and turned my attention to the boys.

"We gotta get this over with. The game is gonna' start soon," the tallest one said, wearing robes with a cream and orange-colored crest of a wooly mammoth.

Young Rollie perked up his ears and froze up.

One of them was short but athletic with a purple and gold sabertooth tiger on his robes; the other kid's clothes featured a grizzly bear with red and silver.

I whispered to Daphne, "So that tall guy there is Mikey, he was a pretty decent chaser for Woolyrun. He was a seventh-year. The two guys next to him are Collin, the Quidditch captain of Saberfang, sixth-year, and Seth, the Quidditch captain of Grizzarus, fifth-year."

"What are they doing?" Daphne asked.

"Just watch…"

The three boys marched over, crunching through the grass and dead leaves, scaring off the chipmunks.

"What's up, Rollie? Don't you have a game in a few hours?" Mikey said.

"Don't you?" young Rollie smirked. "Oh wait, I forgot, you're suspended for a dirty hit."

"I'll show you a dirty hit," Mikey growled.

Seth and Collin raced over to young Rollie's side and restrained his arms.

I lowered my head down, and Daphne rubbed my back as she continued observing. I could hear the thumps of the punches that Mikey landed on me.

"What kind of freak is feedin' a bunch of animals before the Quidditch match? You usually do this?" Mikey chortled, and lifted up young Rollie's head, and glared at him, inches away from his face.

"This was a gift from Houston and the rest of us," Mikey grinned. "Y'know, since you joined your second year, Wolveros hasn't lost a game, but you will today, got that? Dirt-pie?"

Young Rollie screeched out, "We're still gonna kick your ass!"

The smack of Mikey's fist against my head echoed off the stone walls of the courtyard. Young Rollie collapsed.

"Oh damn, dude, he's like, passed out," Collin said.

"Let's get the hell outta' here!" Mikey took off running, and so did Collin and Seth.

The environment around Daphne and I faded to the inside of the hospital wing at Huntshrow. Tall ceilings but inside a small chamber lit with soft amber candles. Young Rollie was resting on a bed with Farrah and the healer, Mrs. Bernard, close by.

Witnessing the memory with Daphne made me wince.

"I've cleaned up all your cuts and bruises, Mr. Magpie. You really ought to be careful with whoever you're aggravating," Mrs. Bernard said.

"Rollie, I found you laying down in the courtyard, unconscious with no one around. What happened?" Farrah's voice was rushed and irritated.

"Has the Quidditch match started?" young Rollie uttered.

"Seriously? That's all you're thinking about right now? You almost died!"

"Has it started? Did we lose?" young Rollie sat up, Farrah and Mrs. Bernard leaned away.

The head of Wolveros, Ms. Mobart, slipped into the hospital room and tiptoed closer. She was a tall woman with high cheekbones, like a portrait of royalty.

"Rollie, you're sitting up? How are you feeling?" her voice was business-like and proper, but a kernel of compassion was there.

"Put me in the game, coach," young Rollie forced a smile.

"Are you serious?" she turned to the healer. "We're still a little less than an hour away from lift-off. Mrs. Bernard, what's your analysis?"

"He seemed to have a minor concussion, but I've healed him up. As long as he's comfortable with playing, he has my approval," Mrs. Bernard smiled.

"Great, no time to waste," young Rollie scrambled out of bed.

The environment shifted again. Daphne and I were out on the Quidditch field, which sat directly behind the castle. Players bulleted over our heads. Everyone was a blur. Still, it was impossible to miss my blonde mohawk shining in the sunlight.

"You're flying awfully fast," Daphne said.

"Yeah, we started going—"

The whistle screeched. The Quidditch referee, Professor Roglund, was next to us, waving his arms frantically. Most of the players halted their flight, but some continued on, flooded with too much adrenaline.

Houston tailed young Rollie like a hawk, speeding up to reach his shoulder. The two of them in a neck and neck race for the golden snitch. The deafening whistles went unnoticed; they had other business besides the snitch.

Daphne gasped.

Rounding the audience on the side of the field, Houston gripped young Rollie's broom and yanked it around as they flew at breakneck speed. Young Rollie was spinning around like an out of control top but managed to lunge out a fist to pummel Houston's jaw. Houston shot off his broom, crashing into the base of the stands, as young Rollie rammed into another set. The whole audience shrieked as they craned their necks to squint down below, where I was sprawled out on the ground while my broom soared in another direction.

The players on the field all hovered in place. Time froze at that moment.

Daphne's jaw dropped as the world around the two of us morphed into the same hospital room as before. We were standing in the corner, looking at an old scrawny bald man with circular spectacles standing over the bed.

"Rollie, are you awake?" he whispered.

Young Rollie's eyes slowly opened, and he took a moment to recognize who was standing in front of him. "Headmaster Pine?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm afraid you've had another concussion today," he frowned.

Young Rollie sighed. "But I'm okay, right? Just another quick fix?"

"Mrs. Bernard has healed you up, yes. She has already left the room. It's just me in here."

"What happened?"

Headmaster Pine stared at me for a moment with a stoic expression that was impossible to read.

"You were involved in a tragic Quidditch accident with Houston."

"Is he okay?"

Headmaster Pine took a long pause before saying, "I'm afraid he has lost his entire left arm, which he used to break his fall. We're lucky, it could have been a lot worse."

Young Rollie's eyes widened.

"But-but, that's impossible, right? Isn't there the Skele-gro potion? Can't he just take a bottle of that and grow another arm?"

Pine shook his head and closed his eyes, taking another long moment to reply. "He has a severe allergy to the puffer-fish ingredient in Skele-Gro. His arm will be permanently gone. Currently, Mrs. Bernard is healing his reaction to the potion. He's in a serious condition, but he will survive."

"Oh no," young Rollie wept.

"I'm afraid this will also lead to discussions of how to finish your schooling since you will no longer be allowed to play Quidditch at Huntshrow, and I know it might be a viable career for you…"

Daphne and I were sucked out of the memory, re-entering our bodies in the abandoned bathroom on the second floor.

She sat with wide-eyed shock, staring back at me.

"Rollie, I'm so sorry," Daphne said.

"And that's when the wheels really started in motion for my transfer," I sighed.

"Whatever you do, you cannot blame yourself for that. Do you understand me?"

My mouth tightened into a horizontal crack, but I nodded.