Quidditch Captain.
I couldn't say that I was surprised. And honestly, nobody else on the team was all too shocked about it either. Who else came up with alternative life-saving strategies in the face of defeat? Who else dedicated extra money and time into making sure that every single broom owned by each individual member of the team was in tip-top condition? Who else could alternate between Quidditch positions with ease when the circumstance called for it? Who else won this team countless matches over the years due to her excellent snitch-catching abilities?
Me, of course.
Cordelia Regan Carrow. Sixth year, long-term seeker, and now Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Ah, the very sound of it pleases my ears.
And poor Scorpius Malfoy thought he had a remote chance. But I'm afraid that with his mediocre broom-care, failed shots during last year's match against Ravenclaw, and desperation to make himself look pitifully important with his constant bribery, he fell flat on his arse. Poor bloke bit off more than he could chew.
Plus, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, Slytherin Quidditch Captain? Don't make me fucking laugh. Stringing those words together gave me this insane desire to vomit. I'll just have to keep an extra eye on him to make sure that he doesn't attempt to off me over the course of the season. It's the sort of thing that the bugger would do. Slippery git.
"Delia!"
Bollocks.
It was Toothless.
I forgot her real name, but I could distinctly recall her pudgy pink face, leering smile that displayed a missing front tooth (hence the nickname), and that disgustingly nasally voice that had been assaulting my ears all damn day.
And for fuck's sake.
Do.
Not.
Call.
Me.
"Delia."
It's Cordelia.
Cordelia Regan Carrow.
I spun around, not hesitating to glare at Toothless, who was literally in my face, her ugly leer and bulging eyes making me wrinkle my nose.
"I… I just w-wanted to ask you when you were holding try-outs."
Her voice was loud, and caught the attention of several other students who were making their way through the long corridors. I made sure that I was not in the presence of anybody notable or significant; being caught in the company of someone as revolting as Toothless was NOT going to help my reputation.
I narrowed my eyes.
"First of all," I hissed, shoving Toothless backwards, gathering pleasure in the fact that she stumbled. "My name is Cordelia. If you ever call me Delia again, your arse will be manticore bait, do you understand me?"
Toothless gulped as she steadied herself, her large feet shifting so as not to trip over her robes. She nodded, the ugly leer no longer on her face.
"And secondly, what makes you think that you will make it onto my team?" I spat. I couldn't even picture it… Toothless? On my Quidditch team? What a revoltingly un-hilarious joke.
Toothless looked miserable and embarrassed. Her cheeks were red and she now had her ugly head down as she stared at her over-sized shoes. "I…I just…wanted to try…"
I laughed. Toothless wanted to try?
"What will you do? Blunder around on a broomstick, trying to knock out your other tooth with the quaffle so that your face looks somewhat symmetrical? I could easily do that for you right now. All you have to do is ask," I growled, smirking broadly.
Aww, was she crying?
Boo-hoo. Poor wittle Toothless is cwying because she isn't good enough for pwetty Cordelia.
"I just w-wanted to know the t-time…" she choked loudly, her hiccups echoing throughout the corridor. This little spectacle was now the center of attention. Many students were staring blankly at the scene, others were laughing with appreciation, others looked apprehensive and even angry…
But of course, no one would intervene.
I AM Cordelia Regan Carrow after all.
"Get lost, you sniveling half-blood," I hissed dangerously. She didn't need to be told twice. With another sob, Toothless spun around and lumbered in the opposite direction. I snickered at her retreating figure. And to think that she was going to actually try out for my team…
I brushed off the front of my robes just in case there were any lingering Toothless germs within the vicinity of where I was standing before continuing on my way down to the dungeons.
I needed to finish mapping out a basic practical strategy for my team.
Yes, MY team.
My Quidditch team.
Just let me let that sink in again.
…hmm…
Alright.
Done.
Anyways…
I had been working on it for almost a month now, and I knew that with the right players, the cup was as good as ours. With the amount of protective enchantments I had put around the scroll of paper, I doubted that anyone would be able to sabotage or steal my plan, but I did not like to be parted with it for more than a few hours at a time.
The common room was fairly empty much to my relief. I hated walking in on stupid first-years clogging the couches or fourth-year bints gossiping about Frederick O'Murphy or whoever the Ravenclaw seeker was.
Being back at Hogwarts, standing in the greenish glow of the Slytherin common room, added to my already elated mood. I was back home, and not at that wretched brothel I was supposed to call my house. Here, I could prove myself. I would be the best bloody Quidditch captain that Slytherin has ever seen. My name would be immortal for ages to come. I would make history.
But my imagination would have to wait. I had a Quidditch plan to draft.
Luckily for me, I was on good terms with the other sixth year Slytherin girls in my dormitory.
Eleanora Nott was my woman. Not in a sexual way, mind you, but in an I'm-your-best-mate-and-nothing-can-change-that sort of way. She walked in on me crying in an empty compartment on the train before our first-year started, and we have been best friends ever since. She's the only one that can get away with calling me Delia. Sometimes.
Ophelia Goyle had the right ideas, but happened to be rather stupid. However, she was always fairly good at flying and broom-upkeeping, which put her in my good books. She and Imogen Burke (another Slytherin sixth year) were the best of friends, and their nightly bullshit chit-chat revolving around hormonal seventh year boys made me hex them a fair few times during the course of a single week.
The fifth girl was Cara Flint. She didn't talk much, and when she did, it was to curse the existence of every single muggle-born and Gryffindor within Hogwarts and the wizarding community.
Given that I don't particularly like muggle-borns or Gryffindors either, I've never had any notable problems with Cara.
Except for on Sunday nights, when the girl sits on her arse in front of her open trunk and just stares at it. I shit you not. That is all she does. However, given the fact that I have dealt with this peculiar behavior for almost six years now, it can hardly be seen as a problem.
When I entered the dormitory, it was mercifully empty except for Eleanora, who happened to be lounging on top of her mattress.
"Let me guess. Quidditch plans?" she asked as I dove under my own bed to withdraw a neatly rolled piece of parchment.
I didn't answer as I grabbed a quill from my bag, unrolled the parchment, and immediately started to concentrate.
If the three chasers stay on the left side of the pitch, but disperse at unpredictable intervals when not directly assaulted… no… not quite right…
"And she's gone," Eleanora chimed.
I glared at her. She was lying on her bed facing me with a twinkle in her large blue eyes, a smirk gracing her lips, her thick dark hair spread over her pillow, and her long legs crossed in an elegant fashion.
If there is one thing that I envied about Eleanora, it was her long legs, which gave her this graceful height. I wished that I could be taller than I was… I was shorter than the average sixteen-seventeen year old girl. But of course, being smaller did have its advantages. Especially when you had to fit into very tight corners to avoid being seen by the enemy during relentless spying sessions.
"Shut it Nott," I snapped. "I am holding tryouts tomorrow at ten AM sharp, and I need to have this plan completed by then."
"Of course. Cordelia Regan Carrow is now the Captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team. How could I have forgotten?" she droned sarcastically, which earned her a pillow to the head.
"Fuck off!" I attempted to snap venomously, but at the sight of Eleanora's face, I couldn't help but smile. It was impossible for me to be angry at her. And that's saying something, because I was known for my grudges.
"You've been working on that bloody plan all morning, and the start of term was only yesterday," she scolded lightly, sitting up to look at me properly. I scowled lightly and turned back to my paper. I'll admit it. I was jealous of Eleanora's beauty in general. I wish my hair could look that luscious all the time.
"You don't understand Quidditch," I barked, making several scratches with my quill.
No. A left-ward focus would not suffice… it would be too predictable…
"No, but I do understand that you need to eat. I was about to go down to get some lunch."
"Good for you," I droned, attempting to tune her out as I continued to make marks on the parchment.
"…Delia, did you even eat breakfast this morning?"
"Cordelia," I growled, though I didn't press the matter as I sucked the tip of my quill. Concentrate, Cordelia, concentrate. You have to assume that not all of your players will be up to par during the first practice…
SMACK.
I felt something fluffy hit the side of my head with surprising force, causing the quill to fly out of my mouth. Something squeaked loudly, and it took me a moment to realize that it was me.
"Arrghhh! Eleanora!" I burst out, immediately chucking the oversized pillow back at her with as much force as I could muster. "What the fuck was that for?"
Eleanora was recovering from the hit, her cheeks a bit pink. She clutched the pillow, a determined look on her face as she yelled, "If you don't go down to lunch with me right now, I will hex you, Cordelia."
I gawked at her expression. Was she fucking serious right now?
"I have important shit to do."
"You need to eat something!"
"I'll eat later."
"No, you won't. I know you. You'll be cooped up here all day working on that bloody plan."
I glared at my best friend as she hopped off of her bed to approach mine. She sat on the edge of it and stared down at me, that determined expression never leaving her face.
"Come oooonnnnnn, Cordelia. Please? You're going to need to eat sooner or later, and dinner won't be for another few hours. Plus, don't you want to show off your new badge?"
I stared at her flatly for a long moment.
Fucking Eleanora Nott. I could never say no to her. She was the only person that could make me put Quidditch second, and remind me that I had other stuff to do. Such as schoolwork, eating, sleeping… unimportant stuff like that. I just couldn't refuse that face.
Plus, I DID like to walk around the corridors with the Quidditch Captain badge pinned to my robes.
It wasn't like wearing a prefect's badge. At least I would be noted for being the captain of the best sport in existence rather than for stamping detentions on the arses of students attempting to shag in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
Scowling, I rolled up my parchment neatly, tucked it underneath my bed, and waved my wand, ensuring its security. Eleanora beamed as she grabbed onto my arm. I snatched it away from her with a glare, but her smile didn't falter.
I really didn't want to go to the Great Hall. I wasn't hungry, I was impatient. Impatient to finish concocting my strategy. Impatient for ten AM trials tomorrow. Impatient to prove to everyone that Quidditch wasn't something to be taken lightly. I wanted Slytherin glory, and I would settle for nothing short of it…
"You're not going to let Rowle back on the team, are you?" Eleanora asked as we made it to the entrance hall.
I snorted. "He was a joke. I don't know what Avery was playing at by making him beater. I'm glad that he graduated."
Maximilian Avery was the Slytherin Quidditch captain for three years, and though I always found him to be an idiotic slimeball, he absolutely loved me. I was the best seeker he had ever played, and I always made sure to stay on his good side. Though that did not stop me from offering strategical advice every once and a while. I swear to Merlin I saved our bloody team over twenty times.
Eleanora nodded in understanding. She didn't play Quidditch, but she was a large fan. She claimed that she couldn't play because of her "uneven posterior." I couldn't help but chuckle every time she made that excuse.
"Y'know, I'm pretty sure that he fancied you."
I snorted. "Avery?"
"He got a bludger to the face during that one match against Hufflepuff because he couldn't keep his eyes off you."
"I was pulling a Wronski Feint," I proclaimed proudly. "Of course he couldn't keep his eyes off of me."
Eleanora rolled her eyes, shaking her head with amusement. "You are the least sexual person that I know, Cordelia. Boys do look at you for more than just your Quidditch skills."
Boys.
Boys. Boys. Boys.
And sex.
Is that all girls talked about nowadays?
What was so exciting about hormones anyways? Hormones didn't perform spectacular dives on broomsticks, nor did they make amazing saves or record-breaking snitch catches.
"Frankly, I don't give a damn," I responded coldly as we entered the great hall.
She sighed. "Of course you don't."
The great hall was filled with chatting students. The noise filled me with an unexpected sense of pride as I puffed my chest out a bit, hoping that the light would glint off of my badge. I ignored Eleanora's smirk.
A few heads turned my way as I walked down the length of the tables, not really intending to find a seat. That's right, fellow Slytherins. Look at your new Quidditch captain. It is I, Cordelia Regan Carrow. I will lead this team to victory, and we will crush everyone else. I will be remembered as the best goddamn captain this school has ever seen. I will be…
"Potter alert."
Eleanora's whisper was full of bitterness.
At the warning, I wheeled around to see none other than James Sirius Potter sauntering in my direction, surrounded by a group of admirers.
Every single pore in my body screamed with rage.
Maybe it was the stupid way he ran his hand through his already messy dark hair. Maybe it was that stupid-ass glint in his eyes that suggested that he was superior to everyone else. Maybe it was that roaring, buffoon-like laugh, or his fucking swagger-filled walk. Maybe it was his famous all-Gryffindor, pure-blood hating, heroic family. Maybe it was his tendency to fuck every single girl in this goddamn school.
MAYBE IT WAS THE FACT THAT HE WAS WEARING A BADGE LIKE MINE.
FUCK YOU, POTTER.
FUCK YOU.
I was seething at the sight of him.
I hated a lot of people.
But there was no one I hated more than James Sirius Potter. He and his whole bleeding, blood-traitor, holier-than-thou family.
"Cordelia, it's not worth it," Eleanora whispered in my ear, though I could tell that she was seething almost as much as I was. The two of us have spent many hours trash-talking the Weasley-Potters.
However, it was too late. Potter was in front of me, towering over both Eleanora and I, his friends surrounding him. His eyes narrowed in on me, then on my badge. A dangerous smirk started to play on his lips.
My hand tightened around my wand.
"Decided to show your face after all then, Carrow? Got over the embarrassment of letting me catch the snitch when it was two centimeters from your abnormally sized nose?" he drawled, running his hand through his hair.
Seriously. What did he hope to fucking accomplish by doing that?
It just made him look like a fucking douche-bag. And he really did not need any help in that department.
His words sent another flash of fury through me. He did not need to remind me of the final match that I was trying to forget. And my nose was NOT abnormally-sized.
Now, Potter and I were evenly matched when it came to Quidditch. We've both been seekers for years, and, as hard as it was to admit it, he was a good flier. He and I were the Quidditch enigmas of Hogwarts. While we've joined our house teams, the house cup has switched between Gryffindor and Slytherin for the last few years.
And now, he was the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, and I was Slytherin's.
Shit got fucking real.
"What did you have to do to become captain, Potter? Did your famous daddy persuade Longbottom with his charms? I'm sure mummy wouldn't be too happy, " I snarled back.
All traces of his smirk had vanished with that last comment. Potter's eyes filled with a cold hatred that matched my own as he bore down on me. However, I stood my ground, craning my neck to look up at him. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath. All attention was now focused on the two of us.
It had always been like this. Ever since Potter had pushed me off my broom during our first flying lesson, causing me to sprain my ankle. It got even worse when we became involved in the Quidditch scene.
He was my mortal enemy. The bane of my existence.
"What did you pay Avery all these years to keep you on the team, Carrow? Broomshed fuck sessions?"
My face reddened at that, and I knew that many would probably take that as confirmation that I did shag Avery on the daily, but those who knew me better… Eleanora and Ophelia for instance… would understand that it was just my lack of sexual experience responding to the comment.
A comment like that from anybody would definitely rile me up, but from Potter… Ohhhhh… it was on a whole new level.
I whipped my wand out and pointed it at his heart, every single cell within my body screaming for his decimation, for his destruction. Oh, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to see those fucking eyes BURN. And I saw it mirrored on his face as well… the same desire for my downfall, his own wand pointed at my chest.
Eleanora had taken her wand out as well, her eyes narrowed in on some of Potter's friends, who were pointing their own wands in my direction.
"One more word, Potter. Come on. Do it. I dare you," I provoked with relish.
There was a large part of me that loved these fights with the smarmy blood-traitor fucker. I loved to focus all of my anger on one single target. On one enemy. Potter was the perfect candidate, and to make things more beneficial, he always volunteered.
"...Cordelia… just stop. It's not worth it," Eleanora tried again, though I knew that she still had her wand raised.
Potter looked like he was going to oblige, but right at that moment, a voice erupted from the end of the hall.
"What is going on here!? You two! Potter! Carrow! Wands down this instant!"
The voice of Professor Longbottom sobered me up at once. It seemed to break the trance, and all at once, students looked down and resumed their eating and conversing, eager to not be involved in the scene.
Taking a shaky breath, I lowered my wand, eyes still set on Potter, who was still glaring at me with the utmost hatred. The badge on his chest seemed to taunt me maliciously and I wanted nothing more than to rip it off of his robes and thrust it up his nose.
Once Professor Longbottom made his appearance, we both exploded at once.
"She insulted me professor!"
"He provoked me!"
"Psychotic bitch!"
"Blood-traitor!"
"Fucker!"
"Wanker!"
"STOP!"
I never liked Professor Longbottom. Maybe it was because I hated herbology with a passion, and he happened to be head of Gryffindor house. Oh, and he was a friend of the Potters. Luckily, that didn't stop him from punishing Gryffindors when he felt that it was justifiable.
"Now," he spoke in a rather deadly voice, a disappointed look on his face. "I am letting you two off with a warning. You two were given the privilege of being the Quidditch Captains of your houses, and those privileges can easily be revoked. For now, I am going to take twenty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin, but if this happens again, I assure you that there will be direr consequences."
He shot an extra look of disappointment in Potter's direction before telling everyone to resume what they were doing. However, once Longbottom was out of earshot, Potter grabbed the front of my robes and pulled me toward him, almost lifting me off my feet so that he could look me directly in the face.
I didn't cringe when our noses were mere centimeters from each other, our glares matching in even animosity.
"I will destroy you, Carrow."
His voice was deadly, laced with a dangerous venom that set my veins on fire.
"See you on the pitch, Potter," I responded.
After another moment of glaring, he released me roughly, causing me to stumble. However, before I could fall over, I steadied myself, watching his retreating figure.
Eleanora was already tugging my arm so that I would no longer be in the limelight, but I paid no attention to her chastising remarks as I took a seat next to her.
So Potter was Quidditch captain.
This was personal.
This was war.
And I had no qualms against playing dirty.
_
A/N: So, what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Cordelia may not seem very likable right now, but given her background and overly-conceited traits, she's bound to attract some haters. Ah well. Characters grow, yes? And she certainly will.
Also, when I reference Toothless, I'm not making a reference to 'How to Train Your Dragon.' I hope that there is absolutely no confusion there, but just in case, the name 'Toothless' belongs to the creators of that movie.