Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Part One:
One

I always prided myself in the fact that I wasn't scared of anything when I was little. From grumpy Mr. McKinnon's ferocious bulldog to the "haunted" manor two streets away from my block, I didn't fear a thing.

That is until I was eleven years old and taking my very first flying lesson at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only then did I realize, after my broom jumped straight into my hand once I shouted up, that I had a fear of heights.

"Mount your Brooms everyone!" Madam Hooch had said once everyone managed to get their brooms in their hands.

I, along with a blonde girl next to me, was one of the actual few who managed to lift and grab hold of the brooms the first try. I was surprised really, thrilled in the fact that I, the Muggle-born, could do this task so easily while others struggled to even get their brooms to move.

It was once I started to actually mount my broom, and grip the handle the way Madam Hooch had shown the class earlier, that my confidence quickly disappeared. In its place a lump formed in my throat and butterflies erupted in my stomach.

Back then, I was completely sheltered. Never once climbed a tree in my life, or done anything that actually set me off the ground. My mother was completely paranoid in the welfare of my brother and I. Anything remotely dangerous she disapproved. That included being more than two-feet off the ground.

Needless to say, flying was very new to me. And apparently the one thing I was scared of was heights.

Practically trembling, when Madam Hooch said to kick off the ground hard and keep the broom steady, I gulped audibly, and half-heartedly obeyed her orders. I was practically about to vomit my little eleven year-old guts out when I timidly tapped the ground beneath me with my foot and held onto that broom handle for dear life. But in all honesty, I really had nothing to be afraid of.

Once I kicked off the ground, I immediately rose a few feet in the air. And as I levitated, my nerves began to inch away and were replaced with delight.

Flying, I found, was incredibly wonderful, exciting to say the least. And I loved every minute I spent away from that solid, stable foundation of ground I had spent my entire childhood on.

"Okay now, ease back down! Careful there." I heard Hooch say from below me. I glanced beneath me, surprised at how far up I had gone, but at that point it didn't bother me at all. What did bother me was that I couldn't go further, couldn't see how far I could go into that blue expanse above me.

I slowly and reluctantly leaned forward on my broom, inching closer to the ground and landing lightly on my feet. I was disappointed as I stood there. Now that I knew how it felt to be on that broom, I never wanted to be off of it.

As class continued, I waited eagerly for Madam Hooch to permit me to mount my broom again, yearning for that feeling again. The feeling I got from being on a broom, even just hovering a few feet in the air, gave me a taste of something I had never experienced before: exhilaration and freedom.

xxx

A scream from the distance to my left and a warning of an incoming bludger to my right, awoke me from my reverie in time to duck a zooming bludger aimed straight for my head.

"Oi!" I yelled, looking about, already picturing the two redheaded blubbering idiots laughing their asses off at my expense.

My eyes landed, not on Fred and George Weasley, but on Oliver Wood a good distance away from me clutching a beaters bat in his hand and looking extremely pissed off.

"What the hell are you playing at?" I shouted out as Wood made his way towards me. "That thing could've hit me!"

"Good." He said a frown on his face. At what he was so upset about, I had no bloody idea. Maybe some bloody Quidditch psycho decided to off him too.

"Good?" I echoed incredulously. God, what the fuck was his problem?

"Look I wouldn't have done it if – what in Merlin's name are you doing out here anyway, Staunton? It's been over an hour, and you haven't caught the bloody snitch once!" He bellowed in my face once he reached me.

I narrowed my eyes at him, because honestly he had no right to shout at me much less throw a bloody bludger at my fucking face.

"Right then," I said as I narrowed my eyes, hunched my shoulders, and threw my long hair back. If he wanted a fight, he'll damn well get one.

"It is six o' clock in the bleeding morning. I am hungry, sleepy, it is bloody cold and – " Before I could finish my little tirade my hair flew abruptly to my face momentarily blinding me. I clawed at it and held my hair back before it could attack me again. "And my hair is getting messed up with this bleeding wind!" I continued gritting my teeth, "So, I am terribly sorry that my Quidditch abilities aren't up to par right now!"

Wood, not at all impressed with my little speech or the state of my hair, just continued to glare as he hovered on his broom.

"One," he said raising a gloved finger at me, "I am your captain Staunton." He said, ignoring my eye roll and disgruntled snort as he raised two fingers this time. "Two, you are the team seeker. My team seeker. And three, as my seeker that is part of my team that I am the captain of, that tone of yours isn't acceptable when speaking to me."

My eyes were angry slits now as I copied Wood mockingly. "One," I spat jabbing my index finger in his face. "Don't talk to me like I'm a two-year-old. Two, I bloody well don't give a damn that your moronic self is captain. Three, because you make a horrible captain. Four, why? Because you won't let your team have a normal practice in normal weather at a normal time!"

Wood narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm warning you Staunton. Keep on talking to me like that, and you will regret it." He said forcefully.

I rolled my eyes, not taking him seriously in the slightest. "Bring it on you Scottish wanker." I replied dryly.

He glared at me; his cheeks flushed red from anger and the cold. He gripped the beaters bat he still had in his hand even more tightly, making his knuckles turn white. It kind of looked like he was contemplating whether or not he should hit me across the face with it. But after a minute or two his grip loosened and the expression he wore on his face turned from furious to surprisingly even.

"Fifty laps round the pitch on your broom and by foot," He ordered, "A hundred push-ups and sit-ups and today, after practice, I want you to stay behind and clean the broom shed and organize the Quidditch supplies without the luxury of your wand." He said calmly a big fat smirk on his face that I usually associated with that little Malfoy git.

My mouth dropped. "You can't be serious? No one's cleaned that shed in ages. I'll miss breakfast by the time I'm finished doing everything!" I said.

But he just hovered there on his broom his arms crossed, appraising me all smugly, that same stupid smirk growing impossibly wider. "Then you better get a move on."

And with that he started to fly away, probably to go and yell obscenities at one of my other undeserving teammates, but he stopped halfway and flew towards me again.

"Oh, and by the way you were right." He said and I raised a suspicious eyebrow. "That hair of yours is a nightmare." He went on, actually having the nerve to make a face at it. "Looks a bit like a banshee's would right now. Might I suggest tying it back or better yet cutting it, it might cost us a game in the future with it flying wildly about and blocking your search for the snitch."

By the time he flew away again I was seeing red, my nasty temper flaring as I gripped my broom handle tightly in my hands. I focused my narrowed eyes on Wood's retreating back and I honestly was about to go over there and tell him exactly where he could put his last name, until I saw it, gold and glittering in the distance.

Jaw set, I zoomed forward on my broom and easily caught the snitch, but I didn't stop there, I flew towards Wood, my beloved Quidditch Captain, and when I was close enough, with all my might, I chucked the snitch at the back of his head.

He whirled around, immediately knowing who the culprit is, but I was already diving towards the ground, the freed snitch whizzing past me.

I landed with a great thud on the grass and marched towards the locker room, hearing my name called out questioningly by some of my teammates and my last name being screamed out by my captain. I ignored them all and threw the locker doors open and made my way to the bathroom, grabbing one of those Tail-Twig Clippers.

Once I reached the loo I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyebrows were knitted together, my face was set in an angry scowl, and my hair was completely dreadful. I resembled a banshee alright.

This thought only made me angrier as I took out my wand from the pocket of my tracksuit trousers and transfigured the pair of clippers into scissors. With one look at my long dark tresses I put the dull blades to my hair and cut it, all of it, off.

Once I finally figured I should stop taking my anger out on my hair, a good pile of which was scattered all over the floor, I slammed the scissors down on the sink. I stole one last glance at my reflection before I turned away and marched back out onto the field. My eyes narrowed and fists clenched, I was so fucking ready for Round Two.

"I am going to bloody kill her, jinx her to oblivion!" I heard Wood yell once I emerged from the locker rooms. Fred and George Weasley were both holding a seething Wood back with much difficulty seeing as Wood was obviously bigger and stronger than the both of them combined. While Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell tried in vain to calm him down.

I silently walked towards them roughly dragging my broom behind me, my head held high as I eyed the bane of my existence. Round Two was about to commence. But once Wood saw me and my butchered hair his facial expression turned from absolute loathing to complete bewilderment, completely banishing the idea of another fight.

Noticing Wood wasn't struggling anymore the whole team turned their attention away from him and focused it, instead, on me. All their eyes widened as they eyed my butchered locks.

"Fucking hell Charlie, what' you do to your hair?" Alicia exclaimed, always the first to speak out.

I ignored her and walked straight up to Wood, and everyone knowing me and my (read: nasty) temper backed away slowly.

"Did I cut enough off for you?" I spat out once I was eye to eye with him—well more like eye to chest. Curse my midgetness.

He just stared down at me, completely at a loss of what to say. Now it was my turn to smirk at him. Without waiting for his reply I kicked off the ground, hard, and started to do my fifty laps.

xxx

I didn't fight with Wood anymore after that practice or speak to him or even remotely acknowledge him. This annoyed Wood to no end during Quidditch sessions. But whenever he would start to yell at me or something I would just fiddle with my hair, twirling it around my fingers or raking a hand through it. This would effectively shut his trap up leaving me to search for the snitch in peace.

I was actually quite surprised it had worked the first time I had tried this tactic, but I guess even an evil spawn of Satan could possess such feelings like guilt.

I could not use this weakness against him as much as I would have liked to, however, because it was already almost the end of October and the first game of the Quidditch season was coming close by. This caused our evening training sessions to double while the weather was becoming colder and wetter. Not only was I tired almost every night when I came back after a practice but also cold, dripping wet, and completely covered in mud.

But, I couldn't complain because I really, and I mean really, wanted to win that bloody Quidditch Cup this year. And I wasn't the only one. The whole team was completely focused and determined, especially Wood seeing as this was his last year at Hogwarts, therefore his last chance to win the Quidditch Cup.

It must honestly suck to have all that pressure on you. It almost makes me feel bad enough to forgive Wood for being such an insufferable little ass all the time. Almost.

"Bloody hell. If we don't win the cup this year, I'll Avada myself." I said one night to Katie after a particularly grueling practice. I was splayed out on my four-poster-bed completely spent.

She groaned in agreement and collapsed on her own bed. Already in her pajamas and blonde hair wet from her shower, she looked as worn out as I did but that didn't stop her from pulling her books slowly out of her schoolbag so she could start on her homework.

Always put together that one is.

Katie Bell and I have been best friends ever since our first day at Hogwarts when a dim-witted boy on our boat wanted to dive into the lake and see if there really was a giant squid down there (honestly, how thick can you get?) We both hoisted him up before he could fully submerge himself in water and drown. We've been attached to the hip ever since.

There are only good things that come to mind when you meet Katie. A complete goody-two-shoes to say the least. The fact that we're best friends comes out as a complete shock to some people, mostly because Katie is known widely for her sweet-as-honey personality and I'm known for my…not as sweet one.

Not that I'm a bitch or anything. I mean, I'm nice enough when it comes down it. But there are some exceptional cases when someone just pisses the hell out of me and I struggle to keep my cool. I mean, is it really my fault people can be so daft?

Main example: Oliver Wood. Our fights and arguments are notoriously infamous here at Hogwarts. Which mainly has to do with the fact that Wood and I can't help but blow up at each other within two minutes of us being together. Thus, naturally, we make for great entertainment when Hogwarts is out of its usual scandalous gossip.

"I'm off to the loo." I informed Katie, finally gaining the strength to get up off my lazy bum and finally take a bath.

Katie nodded in acknowledgment, barely paying attention to me as she focused on the latest transfiguration homework in front of her, something I haven't even started yet.

I opened the door to the bathroom and walked in. As I closed the door behind me I leaned against it and sighed heavily. Honestly, Quidditch will be the death of me.

I made my way to the bathtub while peeling off my dirty Quidditch clothes.

Usually, members of the House Quidditch teams use their respective locker room showers after practices. However, I was the only one of the Gryffindor team to not use them. Sure I ended up coming out of the lockers smelly and gross but as nutty as it seems, I prefer relaxing in a tub of warm water then standing in a communal shower stall. Plus, hot water was practically non-existent there (honestly in a school of Wizards you'd think they could figure out plumbing) making them only good for the unbearably hot summer Quidditch sessions.

I turned the bathtub faucet all the way to the right immediately feeling the steam from the scalding hot water spilling into the tub. As I waited for the tub to fill up I glanced at the mirror to my left, studying my haggard reflection.

Well, sad to say I've had a number of worse days. Not that I was ugly, I mean, I haven't had any complaints. Sure, I was entirely too short for my age (five-feet and not growing) but it's not like I could get mistaken for a first year…usually. At least my face had lost its baby fat this year, so there's some improvement for you.

My eyes were almond shaped and a rather boring dark brown. My nose was a little upturned, but for the most part wasn't offensive or anything. I raised a thick brow and then the other. I wrinkled my nose and pursed my lips, which I was oddly proud of—even though they weren't exceptionally seductively pouty or modelesque—watching as my reflection showed me how my actions looked like.

A loose curl fell in front of my eyes, bringing my attention away from my face to my hair. I ran a hand through my tangled and knotted tresses, pulling back the dark brown wayward curl. My hair was once so long it almost reached my elbows, but now, thanks to the most recent Oliver Wood versus Charlie Staunton Fight, barley reached my collarbone.

Though, I have to say I think I deserve a clap on the back for having this spontaneous haircut turn out so well. I mean, if this whole witch thing doesn't work out, I could have a bright future as a hairdresser.

The new length was quite flattering on me. It framed my face nicely and in a way it made my previously nonexistent cheekbones actually prominent, making my face appear older and more mature.

Too bad the rest of my body wouldn't catch up. I looked down at my chest. Yeah, unimpressive to say the least. Whatever, not everyone could be an Alicia Spinnet.

I leaned away from the mirror, knowing full well how ridiculous it was that I was scrutinizing myself all up in the mirror.

"Whatever, I'm pretty sure I'm kind of foxy." I stated confidently to my reflection.

"You are lovely." Replied a soft feminine voice.

I jumped back, startled. Looking around the empty bathroom before I remembered the mirror was enchanted and therefore could talk.

"Erm, thanks." I said more than a bit creeped out. Even though the mirror was clearly feminine and not an actual person I still felt embarrassed that I was standing in front of it, stark naked, checking myself out.

"You're welcome."

Hello everyone! This is my baby Unraveling! It begins during the third book of the beloved Harry Potter series. It's slightly AU in that the OC replaces Harry on the Quidditch team but, other than that follows the major happenings of the books.
Anyway, hope you enjoy! Reviews are love and constructive criticism is welcome!

Happy reading!
Mar