Time passes swiftly at Hogwarts, and before long Rowan found herself wrapping her self in an overlong tweed coat, sliding on gloves that made her hands big as Hagrid's and donning an ugly yarn cap.
"Why does winter have to do this to me?" She whined, examining her reflection in the mirror. Lily smiled, coming out of the bathroom with a foamy mouth of toothpaste.
"Oh please don't take it off, it's too wonderful to look at." Rowan hopefully adjusted the hat, where it still, despite her best efforts, clashed horribly with her vivid hair.
It was November, the start of the Quidditch season, but the old house rivalries had been going on for months.
"Better hope you'll be able to stay on that broomstick, kid!" One hulking Slytherin called to a new Gryffindor player in the halls.
The Slytherins, by no means the cheeriest lot, had a new spring to their swaggers as the first game dawned, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, and Lily was debating about not attending since Potter would be there and only agreed when Rowan threatened to tie her ankles together and drag her to the game and actually began to do so. The weather had turned extremely cold just in the past few weeks, and it was with only half high spirits that fans trudged along the crunchy, frosted grass, their breath sparkling in the chilled morning air.
"Slytherins dominating the field this year!" One boy called to Lily as they made their way towards the stands.
"In your dreams, serpent. It's lions for the Cup!" She bantered back, tossing her long hair out of her eyes. Rowan winked at her.
It was this frenzied energy that Rowan loved. The eager chatter of crowds, the witty banters between members of the opposing teams (friendly or brutal, depending on how the other person took it. Sirius Black had gotten himself a black eye when trying to joke around with the usually calm Hufflepuff captain about the upcoming game) and the high spirit of supporting teams, some going so far as to paint their faces in strips of house colors or match their makeup and dress to show school spirit. Lily had complemented her eyes with a striking gold shadow, and the scarf she wore alongside her maroon pea coat and matching beret perched on her head screamed for attention…and she was getting it. Instead of throwing insults at her like they normally would have done, Slytherin boys cat called as she swept by their stands , but she kept her head high and ignored all their advances.
"It only encourages them." She said airily as Rowan followed her gloomily, feeling terribly under-dressed in her strange green trench like coat and fuzzy purple hat.. She only prayed no one important would notice her…though she had to admit her prayers probably would be answered, since it was hard to notice her next to Lily any day.
But today was an exception.
"Oi! You there!" Rowan turned at the same time as Lily to see a short, straw haired boy running frantically at them waving a bright purple microphone. "Stop!" He cried in a thick Irish accent. They did.
"Thanks…" He panted,. They allowed him a moment to catch his breath, and he stood up and smiled at them.
"Me girl's having a fit, she's seen me with another girl, she 'as…but it wasn't like that, we was just talkin'. Thing is, I gotta go sort things out with her, and I cant if I'm screaming out to the Quidditch fans. You getting me here?" His wide eyes shimmered as they looked back and forth from Lily to Rowan. Lily caught on first.
"So you want one of us to commentate. Well, I could do it. James Potter would probably fall off his broom in shock if he heard me dictating his playing." She smiled and closed her eyes at the thought, envisioning it in perfect clarity. The boy raised a brow.
"Yea, well, I kinda meant the bird next to you. Here ya go doll." He said, thrusting the microphone into Rowan's hands. "Dig the funny hat!" And he turned and ran towards the field entrance, where a long haired girl turned away from him, evidently in tears.
"What?! It's not my fault you're a dirty cheater and you're girlfriend's got common sense! Do your job!: She yelled after the boy, but he didn't look back. Frustrated, Rowan gave the microphone a hard smack. "…and my hat is not funny." She muttered, a little hurt.
:"Well you heard the man, Rowan!" Lily said, suddenly guiding her towards the Top Box. "He's got girl problems and needs you to take over, easy enough." Rowan dug her heels into the ground.
"No! I don't know enough about Quidditch, it will be a disaster. I can't fly, how am I supposed to narrate flight?" But Lily was determined, and soon Rowan found herself being pushed up the stairs to the Top Box by a very frustrated friend.
"Bloody hell, Rowan." Lily muttered as she pushed against Rowan's back. "Just walk up the stairs, I can't push you all the way there!" Rowan crossed her arms.
"You've pushed me this far, just a little longer won't hurt."
Obviously Lily thought it would. She gave a great push and Rowan was sent flying into the Top Box door. "Lock it once she's in there." Lily told a startled McGonagall as Rowan was thrust inside.
"Where did Ronald get to?" Was the first question McGonagall asked.
"Girl problems." Rowan answered truthfully, glaring out at the stands. McGonagall shook her head.
"Three years he's been doing that…depending on how well you do today, we might just have a new commentator. Now, the game's about to begin. I'll assist you if you need it, but please put the microphone away from your mouth before muttering something to me, I cannot tell you how many times commentators have had entire conversations cast about the stadium. If you wish you can call Lily back here, but she's probably halfway down the stands by now." Rowan stared at the microphone, her hands slippery with sweat.
"You're right…I'll…I'll just narrate."
Rowan had to admit, though her stomach was tying itself in complicated knots, that the Top Box had a spectacular view of the field below. She could see everything from up here-the tall, yellow goal posts silhouetted against the bland grey sky and the field, a bright green canvas despite the death of all the other surrounding grass outside. Madame Hooch, clearly visible with bright canary yellow robes, strode out onto the field in the middle of the opposing players. Smiling to herself, Rowan craned her neck to see James Potter fidgeting on his broom. He was so dedicated to his Quidditch…why didn't Lily give the boy a chance? She figured she might have.
It happened so quickly Rowan barely had time to lift the microphone to her lips.
"Annnnnnnnd they're off, Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle first as the first match in our much anticipated Quidditch season begins!" She cried, her voice echoing around the stands. She smiled, imagining Lily seated with Alice (and unwillingly, with the Mauraders), all cheering for her. Commentating actually wasn't so bad…
"And it's Slytherin in possession. Oh! Quick swerve there from Abbott, a little too far to the left to be effective kid…Unbelievable! Vort swoops underneath Gryffindor Beater at the last second to avoid a Bludger attack, but Addams is too swift. A Bludger to the shoulder! Brutal, but that's how these games are played folks."
It was actually a pleasant experience, spending the game in the Top Box. Rowan called out each foul with perfect clarity, and only once mislead James Potter to the Slytherin end of the field in pursuit of the Snitch. Things were going well, until the last quarter of the game had Slytherins winning by no less than 50 points.
"Come on now, Potter!" Rowan cried into her microphone, on the edge of her seat and surveying every inch of the field from her advantage point in Top Box. "The Snitch was RIGHT THERE, you've been going at this long enough to see that it was right under your nose!"
She screamed at James Potter, seizing fistfuls of curls from her head. "Come on, you CAN DO THIS!!"
As the game progressed the weather only worsened. The wind chill dropped so sharply that even in the warm Top Box, stuffed into an oversized green coat and three sweaters Rowan felt the chill and set the microphone down to rub her hands together, which were slowly turning a shade of pale blue. Out in the stands the students huddled together in large blocks of red or green for warmth, separating themselves even farther from their opposing teams and forcibly reminding Rowan of Christmas time. With half frozen hands Rowan lifted the microphone to her mouth.
"And it's Slytherin in possession AGAIN. Come on lions, is this the best you can do? Put a little muscle into it, Beaters! I know it's cold but we've got to win this--Abbot steals the Quaffle, heading towards the Slytherin posts---"
The crowd waited with bated breath, but Abbot didn't score. Instead, a cleverly aimed Bludger caught her midair and she twirled over, nearly loosing her seat on the broom. From below a collective sigh rose from the stands. The game was severely disappointing, and only a few faithful fans still lingered…but then Rowan's eyes caught sight of a golden glimmer down at the Gyffindor end the same time Potter's did. With the crowd erupting into frantic cheering and standing in their seats, James Potter zoomed towards the Snitch, low on his broom, his long arms stretching as he neared the fluttering ball.
"And Potter's seen the Snitch, he's seen it!!" Rowan cried, jumping and clapping like a maniac as she shouted into the purple microphone. McGonagall was anticipating the win as well- she'd long lost her dignified manner, replacing it with giddy determination.
"Come on Potter." She murmured under her breath, her ruby lips barely moving. "Come on….YES!!" And all formality was lost, as Potter caught the Snitch, the crowds went crazy, and Rowan found herself in a one armed hug with McGonagall, who had tossed her hat off in victory to reveal a tight black bun streaked with grey.
"And Gryffindor take the win, Slytherins the gallant losers-what a match, and such a suspenseful catch for our one and only Jaaaaames Potter!" And Rowan laughed as James took a few victory laps around the pitch, waving to screaming Gryffindor fan girls. She watched his round of glory and was surprised at the feeling spreading through her chest-a warm, fuzzy sort of feeling she got whenever she saw Remus. Rowan pinched herself hard on her cold, grey skin. She could fall for James Potter, she must always remember that. It was key to her survival.
**********************************************************************************