Chapter 2: Preparations

"Oi, Morren! Don't go pulling a bloody Wronski feint unless we're really behind! You know better!"

"We're practising, Captain dearest, in case you didn't notice. Besides, our match against the Bats could easily take a turn for the worst. Best practise Wronski feints now instead of later, yeah?"

"Lay off, Oliver. Don't take out Skeeter-induced rage on a your team! Besides, Morren's right."

"Stuff it, Johnson, I don't need commentary from the peanut gallery to captain my own team!" Oliver roared. Angelina rolled her eyes, and turned to Katie and Roger, muttering, "Bloody wanker. Katie?" Katie shook her head furiously.

"No. I've done it the past two days."

"C'mon, Kats, Oliver'll only hear it from his best Chaser."

"Stop buttering me up, Roger. It won't work." Katie crossed her arms, resolute.

"Oi, Oliver! Katie's got something to say to you!" Angelina yelled.

"No I don't!" Katie insisted.

"C'mon, Bell, spit it out! You've never been shy before."

Katie glared at her fellow Chasers, eyes narrowed. "Fine then. Angelina needs to work on feinting left," she said. Roger stifled his laughter upon the look Katie sent him. "And Roger can't pull a Porskoff Ploy to save his life! And oh," she added, for good measure, "your Double Eight Loop lacks a certain… finesse. You might want to work on that, seeing as how the Bats are going to be getting at least a couple of penalty shots from Jim and Geoff's failed attempts at Transylvanian Tackles, which they've been practising for the past month or so."

Oliver rounded on the two Beaters, murder written all over his face. "You've been practising what for the past month?" The two had time to send quick glares Katie's way before Oliver launched into a furious rant on the unlikeliness of actually being able to pull of such a move. Such a rant was the reason the two had been practising this move in secret.

"Are you barking?" Angelina whispered furiously. "We'll never leave the pitch at this rate! Why do you always have to get him so riled up before matches?" Katie shrugged.

"Kats, you can't do this anymore! He's the captain now, there's nobody to go over his head except Bert, and he's never at practises!" Roger joined in. Katie rolled her eyes, unperturbed.

"Please, he'll get over it tonight after he goes home and nurses his ego with whatever utter shite Witch Weekly's churned out this week."

"No he won't," Angelina whispered furiously. "He's going to go do something stupid, like practising the Starfish and Stick a couple thousand feet up in the air."

"Please, Wood's not that thick."

"Yes he is, and you know it!" Angelina glared at Katie as she said, "I don't know what your problem with Oliver is, but you've got to let it go!"

"I don't have a problem with Wood," Katie muttered.

"Yes, you do."

"So what if there is a problem?"

"So, you need to solve it, before the match tomorrow, for the sake of the team!"

"Well, like I said before, there is no problem, except Wood being a BLOODY QUIDDITCH NAZI!" she sneered, glaring in his direction. He took no notice, still tearing into his Beaters.

"Kats, what happened? I'm your friend, you can tell me!"

"You want me to end practise? Fine." And then, glaring, she pushed Angelina off her broom.

Roger frantically dove after her, and Oliver turned around at the sound of her scream. His eyes widened then quickly traveled up to where Katie hovered, arms crossed.

"BELL!" he roared. Katie jutted out her chin aggressively. "TEAM MEETING, LOCKER ROOM, NOW!"


Oliver was implacable; Angelina and Roger were glaring at Katie and Jim, Geoff, and Leah didn't look any more pleased with her. "Bell, this is just… unforgivable."

Katie merely rolled her eyes. "Please, Wood, it's not that bad."

"You just pushed your teammate off her broom! She could've died!"

"Oh, please, I knew Roger would catch her."

"I can't let this go unpunished, Bell! Hell, I don't want to let this go unpunished. You crossed a line!"

Katie stood, clenching her fists. "How many laps this time, Captain? Or bleacher sprints? Mayhaps push-ups, yes, I'm in need of a good core-"

"I'm going to put Smith in your place as starting Chaser."

"WHAT?" Katie yelled, incredulous. Indeed, Angelina straightened her back at this as well. "That pathetic excuse for a former Hogwarts student?"

"He's good," Oliver said, "knows how to follow orders." He glared at her pointedly.

"C'mon now, Ol, surely this isn't that drastic?" Angelina insisted. "Pick another reserve. Like… Hazelrigg! Yeah, Hazelrigg's brilliant at Parkin's Pincer!"

"Smith's the default replacement. It'd have to be Smith."

"He'd fake an injury as soon as a Bludger came within a metre of his precious face!" Katie raged. "That Puffer ran from the Battle as soon as he could!" Geoff, Leah and Jim shuffled about uncomfortably whilst Roger and Angelina nodded.

"Well maybe some people have more sense than others!" Oliver shouted, face quickly turning an alarming shade of purple. "Maybe some people know when to run!"

Angelina and Roger quickly joined the ranks of their confused teammates as Katie bellowed: "Well, sometimes the risk is worth it!"

"Go start your bleacher sprints. We'll see how defiant you're feeling in an hour."

As Katie and Oliver stormed off in separate directions, their teammates politely pretended not to notice the tears on each of their faces.


"Any changes?" Philbert Deverill asked as Oliver sat down in his office.

"No, Bert, still the same," Oliver said wearily, propping his elbows on Bert's desk. He promptly plopped his face into his hands. "It's not as if I'd put Smith in, after all. You're not going to renew his contract, are you?"

"You kidding me? As soon as this season's over Smith is gone. My debt'll be paid, although his mother really could've used it for something better, like season tickets for life. Even with those games we let him pay last year there's noway he's going to get picked up by another team."

"Good," Oliver grunted. "He's a pansy of the particularly effeminate variety."

"Now, now, Oliver, what would our two female Chasers say to that? Why, it sounded almost sexist."

"You know what I mean," Oliver said, waving his hand dismissively. "Besides," and here his eyes hardened: "I don't care what Bell thinks, so long as she plays like she's supposed to."

"Merlin, what've the two of you gone and done now?"

"More like what she's gone and done now," Oliver grumbled.

"Tut, tut," Bert admonished, amused. "It takes two to tango. And you and Miss Bell are certainly fond of dancing."

"I recall her as being more into the waltz," Oliver joked.

"I'm sure you'd do the bloody Hokey Pokey if it meant you'd get to dance with her," Bert laughed. Oliver looked confused. "Er, Muggle dance. Ridiculous, really. Lacks requirement of any skill other than the ability to put certain parts of your body in and 'shake them all about.'"

Oliver blinked. "Is it American?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Ah. Bloody Americans don't even play Quidditch."