Quidditch Conversations

Chapter 1: Fangirls and Hair Products

It was another day at Gryffindor Quidditch practice. The disheveled and dashing Harry Potter zoomed daringly close to the stands, in chase of the tiny golden snitch. He did not see them, but hiding behind the bleachers were two of his biggest fans, the ever ubiquitous Random Fangirls—no one was sure what House they belonged to, they never seemed to attend classes...Theyjust sort of lurked, like living ghosts, breathing only for a glimpse of the Famous Harry Potter.

Random Fangirl the First was crouching with binoculars. Her face was oddly forgettable, but filled with longing. She whispered, in tones of utmost passion to her companion, "He is soo hot!"

Random Fangirl the Second sighed in agreement. She, too, had a face no one would remember, perhaps explaining her ability to be unclassified within Hogwarts and for people to ignore her complete inability to contribute anything to society besides sighs and exclamations of lust. "The way his hair is all...blown back."

"It makes him looks so…" Random Fangirl the First paused for a moment, searching for a word that could convey her intense attraction, "cool."

Random Fangirl the Second nodded in passionate agreement. Then an actual thought entered her head and knocked her backwards in surprise. "Are we obsessive?" she asked of her friend.

Random Fangirl the First was not really listening, as Harry was flying quite fast, almost too fast for her to follow with her Harryoculars. "What do you mean?" It was a question she asked often.

"All we do is stalk…um…" she looked frightened at Random Fangirl the First's expression. She had used the S-word, forbidden by all Random Fangirls. "I mean, all we do is follow Harry everywhere."

Random Fangirl the First pondered this for a moment, even putting down her Harryoculars. Slowly she began, "Well…we could get a new hobby?"

The two girls shared a deeply pained expression. It was all the thinking. They weren't used to the stress.

Random Fangirl the Second stood up suddenly, banging her head on the bleachers. She fell back down, barely noticing the pain. It was to be expected when you were constantly hiding under and behind things hoping to steal a glance at your love. "Oh! I know!"

"What?" Random Fangirl the First asked, relieved that she hadn't actually had to think of something.

Random Fangirl the Second leaned forward, eagerly, the bump on her forehead swelling and becoming purple. "We could market a line of hair care products to give people Hair like Harry's!"

"Yeah! Everyone will want some, we'll be millionaires!"

Random Fangirl the Second gasped, having another thought; two in one day, this was possibly a new record. "When we have a million Galleons, we could buy a Harry of our own."

Both of the Fangirl's mouths fell open, and they began to giggle in a way that would have been quite evil, if they were actually aware of the meaning of that word.

They jumped up, so excited that they actually left Harry's Quidditch practice early! The instant they were gone, a sinister voice came from the bleacher below. It was Gilderoy Lockhart! He stood up quickly, also bumping his head, but not noticing either… he had removed the part of his brain that felt pain after reading a few unsatisfactory book reviews many years ago.

He proclaimed grandly, with many an exclamation point, "No they won't! No Random Fangirl is going to have a range of hair care products before I do! Henchman!"

Then from behind a pillar, Hermione emerged answering his call, although apparently not happily, "How many times do I have to tell you? It's hench PERSON!"

Lockhart looked momentarily confused at the interruption and then muttered, "Person, right..." He took a moment to regain his composure, and continued in a booming voice. "When will my hair care products be ready for mass marketing?"

Hermione looked suspicious, "In a few weeks, why?"

Lockhart took a deep steadying breath, "That's too long! We have competition afoot." He looked hard at Hermione with his heart-melting blue eyes, and continued in a low wicked voice, "Make sure they're never marketed."

Hermione gasped, she had always most loved his intensity, "Of course" she murmured, before scurrying off to do his bidding.

Once he was sure she was gone and no one was around, he rubbed his eyes hard, "I have to do something about these colored contacts, they're killing me!"

A/N: Hope you liked it, the Lockhart/Fangirl competition will be continued in the next chapter.