A/n: Here is the second chapter! We get Rose's point of view, then a little Amelie/James action.


Rose

In two days time Amelie has compiled the list of girls that will make the up Ravenclaw team.

'Listen up!' She shouts at breakfast. 'It is time for me to announce our house team for this year!'

The little first years turn back to their porridge, but the others all listen intently.

'I will, of course, continue in the keeper position. As chasers we shall have Nell Dortan, Ruth Taytum and Ida Winters.' She announces.

I reach over and clap Ida on the shoulder.

'Good job, Ida!' I whisper. 'Now we'll both be on the team!'

She giggles a little, but her cheeks pale at the realisation: 'I have to play quidditch now!'

'Our beaters will be Mariah Affey and Coraline Darcy,' Amelie continues. 'And our seeker is Rose Wealsey.'

'Oh shit,' Coraline laughs. 'So do I!'

'You didn't think that you would be chosen for the team?' I ask.

'No, and that is exactly why I tried out!' Ida says, covering her mouth daintily to avoid splattering us with her cereal as she laughed loudly.

'Well, that says a lot about our team then, doesn't it!' I say, standing to accept the schedule Amelie is offering me.

'We're doing Tuesday and Thursday night practices, from seven to nine, as long as that doesn't conflict with anyone's personal schedules.' Amelie says, pointing to the blocks. 'We also have the pitch on Saturday mornings, from eight to ten, and Sunday morning from ten to twelve. You girls are lucky, there aren't any other morning practice times available. You can thank your cousin for that, Rose. So, I'll be seeing you all at practice tomorrow night?'

'Yes, captain.' I we reply in unison.

'Good, I expect you to be punctual. I hate people who are tardy.' She gathers her bag and a piece of toast and walks away with the two older girls on the team.

'How do you plan on playing quidditch with your prefect duties, Rose?' Ida asks, pointing to the badge on my chest.

'I can make it work.' I shrug. 'I've been assigned rounds on Mondays and Wednesdays, anyways.'

'And of course, homework will be no problem.'

I laugh. 'I'm a Ravenclaw after all.'

But before the conversation continues, someone calls out:

'Rose!' It's Albus. He's flanked by his two best mates, Arrol Smith and Scorpius Malfoy.

'Hello cousin, Smith, Malfoy.' I reply with a wave of my fork. 'What brings you to Ravenclaw table this fine morning?'

'I've just had it from James.' He says, planting himself firmly as his companions stand there, looking uncomfortable so far from their own table. 'You've joined quidditch?'

'Yes,' Coraline jumps in. 'And myself and Ida too.'

Albus lets out a snort, causing my face to fall.

'What? Is it so farfetched?'

'Of course it is, Rosie.' He laughs, sharing a look with Arrol. 'You're just not the sporty type. None of you are. And you're up against the strongest quidditch team of the decade.'

'I never thought you to praise your brother's talents, Albus.' I grin.

'What? No, not the bloody Gryffindors! Us Slytherins! Our names are practically written on the cup already!' He growls. 'I feel sorry for you, Rosie. You finally feel something for the sport – and you're team doesn't stand a chance at winning.'

'Why is that?' I say, my voice a bitter cold. Arrol, sensing my anger, hits Albus on the arm. 'Because we're girls?'

'Well – Rosie –not exactly –' He flounders for a moment. 'What I meant was-'

'I understand just fine.' I grab my book bag, swinging my legs over the bench and stalking off. But I turn back and say: 'Twenty galleons.'

'What?' Albus replies, thoroughly confused.

'Twenty galleons says Ravenclaw wins the cup.'

Scorpius smirks, hitting my cousin on the shoulder. 'If you don't take it,' He says. 'I will.'

'Rose, you're on.' Albus finally agrees.

I nod at the trio and continue my exit. I cross my fingers while passing through the doors. I can only hope that by the end of the year I won't be handing over my savings to him. If I lose this, it's just another thing for him and all of my other male cousins to hold over me.

You see, Albus and I used to be really close, closer at least than I was to the rest of our extensive family. We're the same age, born only a few months apart, and used to share nearly everything. That is, until we hit Hogwarts and he was sorted into Slytherin and I into Ravenclaw. He became friends with the students in his house – some that I would not wish to be associated with – and a devotion to quidditch formed. I, instead, followed my instincts (thanks mum) to the library. We moved in separate circles, usually only crossing paths during classes and the occasional family brunch.

We became equally talented in different aspects, me in school and he in quidditch. This, of course, made both of our fathers happy, but they were constantly pitting us against each other, bragging about our accomplishments as if they were theirs. My uncles love the sport, and usually throw in a comment about their own children to get the banter going.

So, you will hopefully understand why I am not quite ready to write home about competing against my cousins in quidditch.

I hope that Amelie is a talented captain.


Amelie

I think that my deeply rooted hatred for Potter began way back in first year, when he pushed me out of his boat on the way to the school. He was very lucky that I was too waterlogged to cause any damage to his person – even as an eleven year old, I could have taken him. Since then, we've been quidditch rivals, and there was the odd time when we exchanged jinxes from across the hall, but they were few because the Headmistress enforced a rule against such 'childishness'. In my defence, the only reason why I turned his hair pink was because he jinxed me to trip down the marble staircase and I broke my arm. And he got away with it.

Sometimes, I guess he's alright. Like when he isn't bragging about his 'superiority in quidditch'.

Which is not right now.

'Potter,' I can't help but growl at him and his posse. 'This is a library. People come here to work, not socialize.'

'Perry!' He greets me in a cheerful tone, which only makes me want to rip his eyeballs out more. 'I didn't see you there.'

I harrumph, and glare when he dares to approach me. 'Leave me alone.'

'Don't be so cold, love.' He pulls up a chair, peering down at the papers spayed out on the desk. 'You can read you potions book upside down? Is there no end to the intelligence you Ravenclaws posses?'

'What?' I ask trying to right my books, but he has already lifted it and spotted my quidditch playbook.

'This isn't something that you just leave lying around.' He says, snatching it up.

'It wasn't- hey! Give that back!' I hiss, keeping an eye on the front desk. The hawk-like librarian is nowhere to be found. Seeing this, I take my chance, leaping to my feet, reaching for my book.

'Come on Perry,' He jeers. 'Where are those keeper skills I've heard so much about?'

I proceed to knee him in the crotch. It's a very effective method and my book is back in my hands before he has even regained his breath.

'Whatever.' He wheezes. 'It's not like I need to see you plays to know that they're not going to work. And do you want to know why that is? It's because you're a bleeding girl, Perry. Your entire team. Is. Bloody. Female. And once things heat up, you aren't going to be able to take it. There's a saying, if you can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen. I'm telling you to get out before it even gets a little warm.'

My face burns at his words.

'Do you want to know what's wrong with you Potter? You have this horrible, sexist, fish-eye way of seeing the world. Newsflash Potter: I can be just as good as you.' I throw back at him. 'In fact, I can even be better. My team and I aren't going to give up. We're going all the way to the finals, mate. And nothing you do or say can stop that.'

I snatch up my bag, shoving all of my papers and books inside and slinging it over my shoulder. I storm out of the library dramatically, leaving Potter fuming at thin air. Once I'm in the hall, I slip off my shoes and break into a run.

I have no destination in mind.

I'm just running, hoping that it's going to take me where I need to go.


'Welcome, chasers, beaters and seeker to the first quidditch practice of the season.' I announce to the girls. I'm standing in the Ravenclaw change room now, before the chalkboard. Nell and Ruth are currently changing, pulling on the old, fading quidditch kits. I make a mental note to bring up buying new ones. Mariah Affey, the skinny fifth year who earned a star for knocking another girl off of her broom, is already dressed – quite a keener to begin practice. Coraline Darcy and Ida Winters are helping the other with their padding, and Rose Weasley is fussing over the school broom she's borrowing.

'I know that there has been much talk about us... and the other teams – more so than usual at least – and I am sure that it has not escaped your notice that the other teams are entirely male. I implore you not to be dissuaded in your desire to be on this team.' I say, slipping on my keeper gloves. 'Now, it's going to be hard to win the Quidditch Cup this year, as all of the teams are particularly strong, but as a first practice I think that we ought to start out slow. We should get reacquainted with our flying legs before we start on the tricks and such. So... off we go.'

I set Coraline and Mariah up with a soft ball that I found while cleaning out the change room, telling them to practice hitting it back and forth while flying around the pitch.

My three chasers fly laps and toss quaffles about.

And then there's Rose. Bloody hell, even on a school broom, she's fast. She soars through the air, diving and rolling, laughing all the while. After a few minutes of flying laps she slows and stops before me.

'I'd nearly forgotten how good this feels!' She declares. 'Are you going to pick on my technique as much as James does?'

'No, you have lovely technique.' I reply. 'Did your cousin really teach you how to play?'

'It wasn't only James, all of my cousins pitched in. We have a makeshift pitch at my Uncle Harry's house and we charmed apples to act as bludgers and walnuts as snitches to practice on.'

'Have you ever played with a real snitch?' I ask, lifting a hand to show her the golden globe. She shakes her head, no. 'I can guarantee to you that this little bugger is much harder to catch than a hovering walnut.'

I pass it to her and she snatches it up quickly. She holds it in her open palm and the snitch slowly unfurls its little wings. Pinning it between two fingers, she comments: 'It's quite pretty. Once I catch it, I may never want to give it back.'

'Gives you an incentive to catch it, then.' I laugh before gesturing towards the sky. 'Let it go and we'll see how you do.'

She closes her brilliant eyes and releases the shiny ball. It hovers indecisively for a moment, then, in a blink, it's gone. After another moment, Rose shoots away, searching.

Instead of following her, I speed towards the other team members. I set them up with drills, making mental notes about their techniques, but always keeping an eye on my seeker. Rose catches the snitch not once, not twice, but three times before the end of practice. By then, her reddy curls are messy and windblown, but she looks quite happy. She's sad about returning the snitch though, and I promise that she can keep the one from our final match.

The girls trickle out the door, saying their thanks and good-byes, and a few minutes later I follow, feeling more confident about my team than ever.