"Zachary Lawrence! This is the fifth time this week I have called you out for something!"
The boy in question lifted his head up from his desk, slowly lowering his wand. Professor McGonagall walked over and took his wand from his hand, tapping her finger on his blank parchment.
"You should be taking notes, not trying to hex other students. You can get this back after class, only because it is required in others. Now, pick up your quill. Good job, and start writing. Thank you. I'm running out of warnings, Zachary. One more time and I will give you detention."
"Yes ma'am…" Zachary mumbled, staring at his quill to avoid looking at her as she strolled back up to the blackboard and started writing again.
"How the hell do you keep managing this?" Asked a boy's voice behind him. He turned around to face his friend, Lucas.
Lucas Taylor. Half blood, youngest son of Theodore and Y'vonne Taylor. Fourteen and a half, fifteen in January. Fifth year Gryffindor. On his head lies blonde hair, falling right above his chin. His bright green eyes could be described as 'always open, full of life'. He seeks adventure, usually getting his friends in trouble. Lucas has his own chair in the Headmaster's office.
Lucas' eyebrows furrowed as he tried to concentrate on the lecture being given and Zachary. Zachary smiled slightly "Just lucky, I guess." he whispered, turning around once Lucas let out a soft laugh and started taking notes again.
Zachary Lawrence. Pure blood, youngest of five children of Gregory and Angeline Lawrence. Fifteen years old. Fifth year Gryffindor. A dark brown mop occupies his head, and bright blue eyes sit behind thin, rectangle shaped glasses. Freckles scatter his face, though some could be mistaken for the several scratches and scars that he so rightfully earned playing chaser on the Gryffindor quidditch team. Some would define Zachary as a childish excuse for a teen, others would define him as a coward.
"So when are you going to start actually obeying the rules?"
Both boys laughed as they walked through the corridor, heading to lunch. "Me? Follow the rules? Who are you?! What have you done with Lucas?! I don't think my friend knows me anymore!" Zachary said dramatically. He walked into the great hall and sat down, shoving his bag underneath the table. "So lunch. Do you know what's on the menu today?"
"Not sure" Lucas said with a shrug "Hopefully something that'll give you energy. You've got that quidditch match tonight and need every bit you've got. We need to win. Slytherin cannot win." With the last sentence he slammed his fist on the table. A few students looked over, only to realize that no one was getting pushed into the table, and went back to their conversations.
"Don't worry, I'm going to slaughter them." He looked back at the Slytherin table, making eye contact with one of their beaters, and a smirk fell on his face. "Slaughter."
Zachary was back in a desk, now in History of Magic, holding his head up with his hand. His glasses started falling down his nose as his head fell forward.
"Zach…."
A drop of drool rolled off his bottom lip onto his desk and his hand slipped, his head now bobbing slightly as his neck held it up off of the desk.
"Zachary. Hey. Lawrence."
Eventually, his head found the desk and he rested on his cheek, his glasses going crooked, nearly falling off. He made a few noises as he fell asleep, however no one in the class seemed to notice. Except for…
"Zachary!" A female voice shouted.
He jolted awake, bringing his head up so quickly that his glasses flew off and onto the floor. "I-I've got the quaffle I'm bringing it in!" He nearly yelled.
"Mr. Lawrence? You are not at a quidditch match."
Zachary looked up slowly, coming eye to eye with Professor Binns.
"You do understand that everywhere you go, you are not entitled to do what you want just because you're an athlete, correct? This includes sleeping in my class."
Zachary looked back at the girl sitting behind him. Her face was positioned in a smirk and she watched Professor Binns move back up to the front of the room, writing something on a piece of parchment. "Why didn't you wake me?" He asked, rubbing his eyes.
"I did." She said, rolling her eyes "Fix your hair. You look like a porcupine. And I tried. I whispered your name over and over again but you kept dozing back off."
He ran his hand through his hair, only making it messier "You should have just thrown something at me."
"And then I get in trouble? Fat chance. Anyway, you're needed."
He was being beckoned to the front of the room, Professor Binns motioning towards a piece of parchment with a short paragraph written on it. "Your assignment, Mr. Lawrence. I expect it done by next class. Hopefully this will teach you to stay awake. Now, return to your seat. I have a lecture to finish, and you have O. to pass this year."
Zachary walked slowly back to his desk, sitting down and looking over his parchment.
Two feet of parchment… Explain the giant wars and why they are significant to the wizarding world. I suggest borrowing as many books as you can from the library, as there is only a limited amount of information in your assigned book for this class. Due next class."Two feet?! What about the match?!" Lucas shouted when Zachary sat back down and told him.
"I guess I'll start it at dinner…" Zachary said with a sigh, folding up the parchment and putting it in his bag.
The rest of the lesson dragged on, and every time Zachary looked at the clock he could have sworn the hands were moving backward. "A watched pot never boils…" he mumbled to himself, hoping that the common phrase would somehow come in handy with his clock dilemma. Looking down at his notes, he realized that there was no way he was going to be able to read them later, and folded the parchment up with a sigh.
It was as if an angel had come down to save him. The bell rang. Zachary jumped to his feet and shoved all of his materials, which were strewn over his desk, into his bag. He practically ran out of the classroom and into the hall, and within seconds found himself face first into the floor.
"Lawrence! What the hell was that?!" Cried a female voice. He recognized this voice, and in an instant he felt all hope of freedom drain from his body.
"H-Harper I didn't mean-" He stammered, trying to find a way to apologize as he stood up, picking up his bag and swinging it over his shoulder.
Harper Rivers. Youngest daughter of Jeremiah and Rose Rivers. Fifteen years old, fifth year Slytherin. She would be hard to miss in a crowd, as her red hair is as bright as a ruby. She is only as tall as Zachary's shoulder, and Lucas' chin. Though, make her mad, and you'd wish you were never born. One look into her green eyes and you'd have to use a counterspell against whatever she put you under. Ginger is the only description worthy of Harper Rivers.
"Don't waste your breath, Zachary. You know me better than that." Harper said with a sigh, brushing some of her hair out of her face. She looked at Zachary and her eyes narrowed. "Are you alright? Zach."
Zachary blinked a few times before nodding quickly. 'Lovely.' he thought to himself; 'I zoned out again. What is it with her? She seems to put that sort of spell on me, even when she's yelling at me.'
When everything came clear, he shoved her hand out of his face. "Sorry." He managed to get out before putting his hands in his pockets and starting to head off to his dormitory. "I'm just a bit stressed out. I've got to go drop my books off and be at the pitch within ten minutes and you know, we're playing your house today. They're not an easy bunch to conquer."
"They're not vikings, Zach." She said, a small smile spreading on her lips. "And anyway, you'll be fine. You always are. You're big tough chaser Zachary Lawrence."
"I know but today feels different. Maybe I'm just imagining things. I'll see you at the match?"
"Wouldn't miss it. Good luck." She said with a wave, walking towards the stairs that led to the Slytherin common room.
Zachary's nervous footsteps quickly turned to a sprint as he made his way upstairs, wheezed the password to the portrait, ran up the stairs to his common room, and threw his bag down, not staying long enough to see where it landed. He continued his sprint until he was outside, his shoes no longer hitting stone but soft, moist earth. The castle always seemed to get bigger when he was in a hurry. His chest was burning as he rushed to the pitch.
"You alright, Lawrence?"
"I'm fine. I just got stopped in the hall. How long until we start?"
"About ten minutes. You're fine on time. Go get changed."
Zachary nodded towards his captain, then turned on his heel towards the locker room. Within three minutes he was in full gear, clutching his Nimbus 2001 in his right hand.
"O'Leary's got a speech for us." A teammate whispered to him as he made his way towards the door. Zachary sighed and nodded, sitting down on a bench in the center of the room.
"As you all know-" Dean O'Leary began, his voice echoing through the small room "This is the biggest match of the season. This year, I know we will bring home the cup. Last year was tough. We were beat out by Ravenclaw-"
Several groans filled the room, but Dean didn't seem to hear them as he kept talking.
"But this year is different! This year we have trained harder-"
"Yeah, nearly every day until dusk"
"We have given everything we have"
"Dean I think I've run out of everything I have"
"And we have brought a team that Hogwarts has never seen before! We've only lost one match this year, team. And now is the time to prove that we can bring home the cup. Are you all ready to win?!"
"Beat the snakes!" Shouted the seeker, to which the rest of the team responded "Slaughter the snakes!" And chanted such as they walked out onto the pitch.
Muffled cheers filled his ears as he stepped past the barrier onto the pitch. He looked up at the goalposts and brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, fixing his glasses. He could feel the wind blowing through the mop on his head and hoped that it wouldn't effect broom steering. Chants of "Gry-Ffin-Dor" And "Sly-Ther-In" were mixed with the wind blowing past his ears. He closed his eyes for a moment before a cocky grin took over his face and he mounted his broom, waiting for the whistle of approval.
Within seconds, he could feel the wind take him off the ground and into the sky. He adjusted his grip on the broomstick handle and looked down at his fingertips to make sure they weren't turning red from him cutting off his circulation. Wind blew his hair back and his forehead glistened with sweat in the afternoon sun. His glasses shielded the wind from burning his eyes, but didn't block the sun's glares. He looked down at the shrinking ground- at the shrinking stands, and couldn't help but laugh. Flying was his favorite thing in the world. If he was every angry, or sad, or just needed a breather, one could almost always find him on the pitch. It was his therapy. Who needed someone to talk to when your broom could do all the talking for you? His moment of paradise was taken to a halt, however, by more blowing of a whistle and Dean shouting "Go! Zachary focus!" He caught a glimpse of green and took off after it, ducking as a bludger came towards his head.
His hands wrapped around the quaffle and he zoomed towards the goal post, holding onto his broom with one hand and throwing the ball as hard as he could. He heard a loud ding and cheers filling the stands. He didn't have time to see if he had made it, but from the noise he assumed that he had. His other hand clenched itself back onto the broom and he swerved, avoiding an opponent, obviously older than he, who was going towards the back of his broom. "Stop breaking the rules and learn to play fair!" He shouted, which earned a laugh from the older boy.
"How about you focus and try to actually win your team some points, Mr. Dreamy?!" The boy shouted back.
Zachary glared at him, trying to control his anger as he turned his focus back to the match. This was all their plan. They knew that Zachary had a very low anger tolerance, and if enough buttons were pushed, or if one was pushed in just the right place, he was off like a firecracker. Holding his breath, he looked around. He glanced at the scoreboard and smiled.
Gryffindor- 40
Slytherin- 20
Another roar of cheers erupted from the stands and a loud "The snitch has been spotted!" was called over the speaker. Zachary couldn't help but wonder who it was, but not long after the thought crossed his mind, he heard loud cursing from the Slytherin seeker. "Look who's bringing home the cup" he whispered to himself, a small smirk on his face. He went to get the quaffle from a Slytherin chaser and huffed as he stopped.
"What, can't hit me 'cause I'm a girl?" The snake mocked
"No, I can't hit you because it's against the rules. I can, however, do this." Zachary replied, flying around her in circles, causing her to drop the quaffle from diverting her focus to him instead of it. He smiled and swooped below her, grabbing the ball before it hit the ground, and flew quickly towards the goal post.
In a matter of minutes, there was a loud 'crack!' and Zachary tightened his grip on his broom as smoke filled the pitch. He couldn't see where he was going, and he could only assume that no one else did as there were yells from other players to 'Land! Land now!'. He tried to maneuver his way to the ground, squinting so that he could see better, and seconds later felt a thud as he hit the ground. He tried to open his eyes. He tried to stay awake, but he had just fallen from the height of the goal posts. Eventually, and against everything he was trying to accomplish, he let his eyes close and his body relax, hoping that someone would find him- wherever he was.
"Is he awake?"
"Don't bother him, Lucas. He needs rest."
"You didn't answer my question, Harper. Is he awake?"
"Lucas shush. Look, he's waking up."
Zachary groaned slightly as he opened his eyes, closing them again as light shone right into them, nearly blinding him. He waited a minute then sat up, putting a hand beside him to steady himself. He gripped a sheet. A sheet? He was just at a quidditch match! As his eyes focused, he squinted and looked around. There were a few other students, still in their quidditch uniforms, still knocked out. Two were awake and were also sitting up, looking as confused as he was.
"You're in the hospital wing, mate. Some idiot shot off a firecracker and it exploded in the middle of the pitch, causing three of our guys and four of Slytherin's to fall. You shoulda seen Hooch, oh she was furious. I heard Slytherin seeker demanding a rematch. They still haven't found who set it off, but they're looking."
Zachary rubbed his eyes and blinked, focusing them on the two figures standing in front of him. Harper looked panicked, which was reassuring to him, in some way. Lucas looked angry. Harper handed him his glasses. "They shattered when you fell." She explained "I had to use reparo to fix them. I might have messed up, let me know if it worked."
He put them on and blinked, then nodded. "They're fine.. Thanks."
She nodded and smiled.
"How long have I been here?" He asked, his voice hoarse.
"Just a few hours. We've already had dinner, though I don't think many people ate. We were all worried about you guys. You've broken an arm, though it's already been repaired. She said there'll be bruising, and to be careful. You're lucky. One of our beaters, you know, Jamie, she fell and broke a few ribs. She's gonna be in here a while. Not allowed to play in the rematch."
Zachary still looked confused, and looked around more. He groaned in pain and lied back down, closing his eyes.
"Let's let him sleep." Harper suggested, and Lucas reluctantly nodded. All three of them knew it was going to be a long week, with Slytherin down their backs. There was unfinished business. And it was about to be finished.
