Promises of a monthly update failed miserably. First, My seventeenth birthday came and passed with rough and tumble. Then after I started writing the chapter my horse threw me, injuring the both of us. Then school bogged me down with last-minute projects and tests. Now my family has dared me to write a novel over spring break…
Warnings: This story contains rape, underage m/m sex, and drugs. This is a 16+ story, and meant for mature audiences only.
Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would be writing next gen novels, not AU fanfiction.
I walk down the dirty streets, heading to the Quiddich pitch. I'm still deep within Warthog territory, and I can see a member of the Order every so often as they scout for any dark wizards, the Death Eaters. They're coming to get us and use their dark magic to take ov- No, no. Not wizards. They are checking for police, I can see it in the way they shift their eyes up and down the alleys and streets.
One comes towards me, purpose fills his stride as he thunders down the grey street. By the way his trench coat drapes his thin body I can tell it's Snape before I see the grease of his hair. He glares as he passes, his pupilless black eyes locked on mine. I can see the hate in his eyes. I know he doesn't like me. I think it has to do with past dealings in the circle. Maybe my parents-if I had parents-got into bad business with him.
After a moment of hesitation from each of us he passes, and I continue on my way down the alley. Hoots and calls beckon me down the trash-lined streets. I am late, but the rest of my team wont care, they know I will always win the game for them.
I tie my red scarf around my head as I emerge onto our pathetic playing field. A ring of boxes and smelly black garbage bags mark our field. Three trashcans on two sides of it mark out the goal. The blue-clad Ravenclaws danced around their side of the field. Madame Hooch, our outdoor watcher, tries to settle the crowd of the circle and Order members without luck. People are standing around the ring and jumping on the gray-blue dumpsters. Cheap beer is shared and spilled among them. I leap over the barriers and join the group of red-clad Gryffindors.
"Took you long enough, mate." Fred, Ginny and Ron's older brother throws a gangly arm around my thin shoulders and pulls me in close.
"We were beginning to think someone doused you on your way over." George, his twin, catches me from the other side, and together they march me over to the starting line. In the middle lies an old, worn basketball, and two no longer white baseballs. The third ball, a yellow bouncy ball that was closer to a shade of brown with all the dirt on it, was hidden somewhere in a block radius. The arena was mostly for the chasers.
Quiddich is a game invented years ago in the circle. There are four balls, seven players on each team, and almost no rules. Three chasers on each team fight for the basketball and try to score by throwing it in one of the opposing team's three trashcans. The cans are guarded by a keeper, the most bloodied player by the end of the game. There are two beaters on each team. They use the old, hardened baseballs to beat the opposing team's players. Then there is my job. I'm a seeker. I have to find the bouncy ball that one of the Order members hides before game start. I have to find it before the other team seeker, and only once I've brought it back to the arena is it game over. The "golden snitch" as some call it is worth one hundred and fifty points, usually guaranteeing the finder's team a victory.
I place myself behind Fred and George and wait for the whistle to blow. I see the Ravenclaw seeker do the same. Her name is Cho Chang. She's very pretty, but I know she has her sights set on a man in the Order.
As the whistle blows I tense, then flee. I sprint past the crowd and fly down the alleys while keeping my eyes peeled. I'm flying. I love the feel of the broomstick in my hands. The best money can buy. I fly high above the quiddich pitch in search of the small winged ball. There are hundreds of people in the stands, waiting for me to catch the ball. Suddenly there is pain that blossoms in my arm. I spare a glance at the limb as it swells beneath my arm guards before looking up at the Ravenclaw beater who sat on his broom with his beater's bat poised for another strike. I quickly fly away in a zigzag pattern in hopes that he wont get me again, but the bludger makes contact with the back of my head and I'm falling off my broom, falling, falling falling- Until my palms met the pavement and the old brown baseball rolls further down the alley. Pain shoots up the arm that had had been hit by the ball before. Ignoring it, I scramble to my feet and run.
It isn't too long after my encounter with the beater that I find the bouncy ball. It's only just visible underneath some trash bags. I bend over and pick it up, wiping away some of the dirt and grime encrusted on it. As I turn to run back to the arena I see something out of the corner of my eye. It's a man, but it's no Order member. It takes me a moment to realize that it's a black shirt that he's wearing. Over it is the familiar vest worn by death eaters. I take a step back, and the man knows he's been spotted. I blink and he's gone. I keep staring until the throbbing in my arm reminds me that I'm still in the game, and the beaters can still get me.
I sprint all the way back to the arena, leaping wildly over the people and stuff that line the arena. I stand in the center to cheers from the crowd and my team. My name is called in a cheer that echoes through the abandoned buildings around us.
"Potter! Potter! Potter!"
I smile. I forget about the death eater as I'm swept up by the crowd.