Dislcaimer: Harry Potter characters and setting is not mine. I know, I know, it's a crime. The things I could do to Harry! Oh, well, I'll just have to find my own cast of characters someday…
3
Rose sat across from Hugo, silently staring at her younger brother. He was a rather awkward kid -- big hands, big feet, big ears, and a big sense of arrogance. Nothing could shake his pride. Rose honestly didn't know what he was doing in Ravenclaw. Really, he was much more of a Gryffindor.
"So," her dad said, lifting his cup of wine. "How was work today, Rose?"
"Fine," she replied, pushing her potatoes around.
"What do you think of Greg?"
"He has bad taste in quidditch. The Harpies don't know how to effectively use their players. I mean, there is no way Mikah can be on seeker, when she holds the second-best record for chasing. And there's no way Wiener should be on beater, when she's clearly a better keeper than that Swod they have."
"Swod isn't bad. She's just inexperienced," Hugo said, waving his fork at his sister.
"Oh, shove it you. You don't even know what you're talking about. You know next to nothing about quiddtich."
"Well, I certainly know more than you! At least I can fly."
"I have balancing issues," Rose said. "I can't even walk in a straight line."
"You know, I still think we should tell a healer about that," her mum said.
"I'm fine, mum," Rose said.
"She doesn't really need to use a broom," her dad said.
"But it'll affect her ability to aparate, won't it?"
"Look," her dad said. "If I can learn to apparate perfectly, I'm sure Rose can."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Hugo said, a huge grin on his face.
"Be quiet, Hugo!" Rose said.
"Both of you, calm down," their dad said. "And we have a few years before we have to worry about Rose splinching herself."
"And you learn in a controlled environment, so don't worry about it, Rose," her mum said. "Your father splinched himself more time than Harry, Ginny, and I combined."
"You did?" Hugo asked, a look of shock passing over his freckled face.
Their dad nodded sheepishly and their mum chuckled darkly.
"Weasley men don't have the most luck with apparating," their dad said. "I don't think the tw--George had any difficulty with it, and Perce definitely didn't, but I think all the rest of us had some…set backs."
Hugo started giggling.
"So," their dad said, changing the subject quickly. "I got us some tickets to the world cup this year. You two interested in going?"
"Yes!" the two Weasley kids shouted, jumping up from their seats.
"I hear its going to be the Irish versus the French!" Hugo shouted, punching the air excitedly. "We're going to crush them! Dom's going to have to bow to our dominance!"
"Err…Hugo," Rose said. "First off, it isn't the Irish, they got knocked out two days ago by Brazil. And the French aren't even in the running this year. The way things are going now, it's going to be Australia against Brazil unless Bulgaria knocks the Aussies out. And that won't happen because Australia is on fire."
"Oh," Hugo said, sinking back into his seat.
"See? You barely know anything about quidditch."
3
Rose flipped through a copy of Quidditch Weekly Uncle George had lying around. It was the new edition, completely devoted to the world cup. It toggled between articles of Australia, Bulgaria, Brazil, Ireland, and momentous recounts of past quidditch world cups -- including the one where the dark mark was put up in the sky and a bunch of death eaters got out of control. She knew her dad and mum -- along with other Weasleys and Uncle Harry -- all went to that cup, but no one would tell her a thing about it. She supposed they were trying to protect her, but she wasn't one to be protected.
The bell tinkled. Rose looked up. Greg entered the store, playing with the front of his neon blue robes. The color made her stomach churn. Why her dad thought neon colors looked good on people was behind her. She hadn't met one person -- other than Vick -- who could pull it off.
"Good morning," Greg dared to say.
Rose glanced up at him, cocked an eyebrow, and returned to the magazine, which gave her a detailed account of the first quidditch world cup. He was still wearing his Harpie's cap.
"Not a morning person?"
"Mhmmm. And it's not morning. It's after twelve."
"Riiiiiiight." Greg sat down next to her in the stool and leaned against the counter.
"Don't give me lip, kid," Rose said like she would to Molly or Lily.
Greg snorted.
"So I've been thinking about what you said," he said.
"About what?"
"About the Harpies, and how they're incapable of winning the league this year," he said.
"Yeah?"
"And I still disagree. The only reason why they lost that Cannons match was luck."
"No it wasn't. Don't lie. I'm smarter than you."
"Don't make me laugh, Weasley. I'm a Ravenclaw."
"With the arrogance of a Gryffindor."
"No different than your brother, really."
"Hugo gets a pass because he's a Weasley."
"And Albus?"
"He gets a pass because his intelligence backs up his arrogance, and, really, his arrogance isn't that bad. It's more of a perceived arrogance, actually. He doesn't have the venom Hugo does."
"Anyway, the Cannons had a lucky game. Because, don't interrupt Weasley, because it was one of Swod's first games."
"That means nothing, and we both know it."
"It means everything!"
"She has the best record in the b-league. Don't pretend she doesn't. And she won the first game against the Tornadoes, only letting in four goals. They have Gertrude and Nix, two of the best chasers in the league. They're in second place. Don't tell me she doesn't have mad skills."
"That's my point, though! She does have 'mad skills'. The problem is that the Cannons caught her on a bad day. Don't tell me people don't have bad days."
"Professional quidditch players are not allowed to have bad days."
"Bullshit."
Rose snorted and looked at him. He leaned back in the stool and crossed his arms, his cap on backwards, now. He looked like an idiot in those robes with that hat. She shook her head and continued reading about the Australian seeker.
"Seriously, though. Swod's the best keeper in the league."
"Wood."
"No way."
"Yes way. How can Wood not be the best keeper? She was personally trained by her father."
"She's way too young."
"And every game the Possums play, the score is under two-fifty. Why? Because Wood keeps everything out of the goals."
"But they lose every game!"
"Because their seeker is crap."
"No! That's not the only reason!"
"Their average score is one hundred and ten. You know how much Wood lets in on average per game? Fifty. And you're going to tell me they lose because their seeker isn't crap? He hasn't caught the snitch once all season, even against the Cannons, and they really need a new seeker, too. So don't sit there and tell me that Wood isn't brilliant just because her team loses every game!"
"Excuse me," Greg said, putting his hands up defensively. "I think you're deranged. There is no way that Wood is better than Swod. None. Remember the Possum-Harpies game? Yeah, that's what I thought. The Harpies chasers pummeled Wood to the ground…"
"And that has nothing to do with the Harpies having some of the best chasers in the game who have been working together for almost two decades? Or that it was Wood's first game in extreme weather conditions and the Harpies were the home team? Or that half the game was kept by Johanas? When Swod went in there, the Possums got five consecutive goals…"
"While in that same time-period, Wood let in ten!"
"Bogus! She let in ten because her beaters didn't give her adequate coverage!"
"Whoa, you guys are loud," Vicky said, stepping up to the counter.
"When did you get in here?" Rose snapped, staring at her cousin. How dare she interrupt the argument of a lifetime?
"Just now; you must not have heard the bell in the heat of battle. I'm here looking for Uncle G, where is he?"
"Out with lunch with my dad," Rose answered simply, staring coldly at Vicky.
"Oh, and Greg, Rose is right. She always is when it comes to quidditch."
"If you're trying to get on my good side, it isn't working."
Vicky looked at Rose, her face slightly pale and surprised. Rose clenched her jaw, digging in her heels for any opposition.
"I'll wait for him in the back," Vicky said, offering a strained grin before slipping into the office.
"I'm telling you Swod is the best keeper in the league."
"Ridiculous."
The bell tinkled above the door again and a customer walked in. Rose eagerly went to help the young girl, yearning to get away from the ridiculously ignorant quidditch conversation with Greg. He was impossible to be around, even worse than Fred and George when they were adamently overprotective. She pushed the thought from her mind and bent down to help the kid.
