Sorry this one took so long, I've been on vacation :) Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin
Quidditch practice was getting more and more fierce now that the season was getting closer. Whatever was going on with Ellie and Oliver outside of the game, her feelings for him were rather demolished by his obsessive attitude. It was cute, but much too stressful.
"I know we've got a great team," he said, "Chasers that work brilliantly together and the best Seeker I've seen, and our unbeatable Beaters…"
Fred and George smirked.
"But this is Slytherin, probably the toughest competition, and we've really got to work at it. So practice tomorrow, two hours, three if you start complaining."
Everyone groaned mostly inwardly as they headed back to the locker rooms. Ellie took this time to confide in Fred and George what she hadn't told them for several days.
"There's some stuff that's been going on," she said quietly. "Like… not just school stuff."
"Oh, cut with the cryptic," snapped George, who was in a foul mood because he'd accidentally eaten one of his own experiments.
She glared at him before explaining, "Well, you know I talked to McGonagall about all this stuff, and she said Snape said…" She sighed. "It's complicated. I'll tell you when we sit down."
About ten minutes later, they plopped onto the bench and she told them the story of Snape claiming to know both her mother and father, and the fact that she supposedly had a Perelli charm cast on her, which would activate a shield when she did what she loved most.
"Any idea what it is?" asked Fred. "Quidditch? Music? Art? Snogging Oliver?"
She rolled her eyes. "I don't know, and I don't really know what good it is to me. The only way I can find out is if something dangerous happens to me while I'm doing it, and what are the odds?"
"Still, once you figure it out, it's bound to be a lot of help," Fred offered. George was still sulking. "So how does Snape know your parents?"
"No idea. I don't think he likes them, though—not if how he treats me is any indication." Then she launched into the other story, about how she'd spoken to Hagrid and he'd revealed something about a Philosopher's Stone.
George seemed to be lifted from his bad spirits quickly. "Really?" he asked. "I haven't heard of it—not that that means a lot—I don't really pay attention as much as I should…"
Ellie snorted.
Fred looked more serious than usual. "So you think those three know what it is?"
"Not exactly," she said. "Something seemed to click with Hermione when I said 'Philosopher's Stone.' Like, she'd already known there was an object, but she hadn't known what it was called."
"Well, since you've talked to him on a more personal level," said George, "I think you should ask him about that three-headed dog. Hermione said it was guarding something. Maybe there's a connection?"
She frowned. There probably was, but how was she going to get Hagrid to tell her something like that? He didn't know her, not nearly as well as he knew Harry, and by the looks of things he wasn't even telling Harry everything he knew. Whatever was happening, it was big.
Finally the day of the match was there. Ellie woke up with a frighteningly nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach, wishing it could be her birthday and Fred and George could be there to cheer her up; she felt very alone in a room full of girls she still hardly talked to.
Lavender and Parvati were up a few minutes after her, and they immediately went into talk mode.
"I think you'll do great," Lavender gushed. "Seriously, you have nothing to worry about. I reckon if Oliver Wood fancies you, you have to be good at Quidditch."
Ellie laughed as she laced up her sneakers. She preferred Vans and Converse, but they weren't ideal Quidditch shoes. "Lavender, Oliver Wood doesn't fancy me, we're just friends," she said, mostly out of habit though she knew it was very true. There was no way Oliver could like her.
"You don't have to be modest," said Parvati cheerfully. "We don't mind. We're too young for dates, but when we get older, Lav's gonna date Ron."
"Hey!" Lavender shrieked; apparently this was a huge secret.
"What, scared Won-Won will find out?" teased Parvati, looking amused.
Ellie laughed and got her things together. "So you guys are coming to the game?" she asked, trying to steer away from the subject of boy crushes. They were too young, anyway.
"Definitely," they said at the same time. They were almost more in tune with each other than the twins.
Hermione and Eloise stirred and woke at this point, both looking annoyed. But when Hermione remembered the Quidditch game, her face softened.
"You'll do great, Ellie," she said, "you seem like a born flyer. Harry, too—I've got to find him and wish him luck."
Ellie nodded. "I'll come," she said. "Don't want to face the rest of the team alone."
Hermione laughed and led her out of the dorm, and Ellie breathed a sigh of relief. "I feel like they have no depth sometimes," she said to Hermione, meaning Parvati and Lavender.
"They have depth," Hermione said. She grinned. "Okay, maybe not, but they're not bad with magic."
"I know. Everyone here seems to be great with magic—okay, maybe not someone like Neville, but we all have aptitude, it what I mean. You know? I think Neville's problem is confidence. You have a lot of confidence, so you're all set. I've got a lot in Charms, so I'm—" She gasped audibly. "That's it! Charms! Hermione, next time we're in Charms, try to hurt me. Like, slap me or something."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Why?"
"It's just this thing I'm trying to figure out," Ellie lied. "What I love most. Something's supposed to happen. I like Charms a lot, maybe it'll be that." She figured if Hermione could keep secrets, so could she.
They reached the boys' dorms and Hermione left in search of Harry while Ellie went to find Fred and George, being yelled at by several boys clad in underwear.
Fred and George were already dressed and playing a round of poker.
"I thought we agreed poker's to be played downstairs?" she asked cheerfully. "Where I can have access to it?"
"Apparently you have access to it here, too," replied Fred, laying his hand down happily and announcing, "Full house!"
George tossed his cards angrily across the room, then casually brought them back with a flick of his wand and an "Accio cards."
"You two are better wizards than I thought," she said as they left for the Great Hall for breakfast. "I always assumed you were—"
"Pathetic idiots?"
"Too stupid to learn, so we resorted to pranks?"
"—better at some things than others," she finished carefully, "an example of 'others' being school spells."
"Accio's easy," George explained. "And Wingardium Leviosa was a first year thing, if you're talking about the troll. Wasn't a big deal."
"But, I mean, Fred made a shield. That was cool."
"Dunno how I thought of that spell," Fred admitted. "Luck, I guess, I think I learned it in Defense a few years back. Didn't make much of a difference, since it broke."
"Whatever, it held up a long time."
"Not long enough," he snapped, his eyes flashing for a second.
She stared at him, puzzled. "But," she said, "we're all fine. It helped me and Hermione as long as it needed to… is there something wrong?"
They sat down at their table, rather isolated from everyone else so they could talk in private.
"Nothing's wrong," he said, loosening out again. "Sorry. I've just never been in, like, a near-death situation. It's weird."
"Neither have I," she reminded him. "But it was kind of exhilarating, wasn't it?"
Fred's mouth closed tighter, like he wanted to say something more but knew he shouldn't. So George spoke instead, saying something funny that didn't really matter, and things were back to normal—at least, until Wood came over and they were taken to the pitch.
Lee Jordan's voice rang out over the whole field, something that should've been exciting but was just even more nervous-making. Ellie was glad to know she wasn't in this alone; Harry looked completely panic-stricken.
"We'll be fine," Oliver assured them as they walked onto the field. "Harry, just as we've practiced and you'll be great. Ellie, Angelina, Katie—just play as a team, remember? And you'll do fine. Fred, George…" He laughed. "Well, I don't think you're nervous, so it's not an issue, is it?"
They laughed mutually, clearly not worried, which made Ellie even more worried.
"All right, then," Oliver said as they lined up in front of the Slytherin teams, mounting their brooms, ready to kick off. "Play your best!"
Madam Hooch raised her arms, and they all levitated into the air, waiting for her to throw the Quaffle. She counted down and blew her whistle, then tossed it into the air.
Ellie was overcome with the most powerful urge she had ever felt to get that ball. She felt like her life depended on it, which was the only explanation for her decent Cleansweep to beat everyone else's high-class brooms, taking her closest to the Quaffle. In one swift motion, she weaved through the angry Slytherin Chasers and off to one side toward their goals, glancing to the side.
The Slytherins were coming to her quickly, looking furious that she'd gotten the ball. She glanced around and found Angelina dashing to her other side, so she took the opportunity and threw her the Quaffle. Angelina caught it and zoomed forward further, making the final pass to Katie, who scored the goal.
"One very fast, defenseless score for Gryffindor!" Lee said happily. "That's ten points! And a very fast one on Ellie Breth—er, Ellie's Cleansweep!"
Ellie smirked as the Quaffle was being tossed back in; she'd warned him not to use her last name. But the distraction had cost her the Quaffle—where had it gone?
She exhaled with relief as she saw it being pushed forward by Angelina. Angelina was clearly stealing the spotlight in this game; she was flying expertly, had caught the Quaffle from Ellie precisely, and now zoomed to the Slytherin side and scored the goal flawlessly.
"Angelina Johnson scores a beautiful ten points!" cheered Lee.
The Slytherins looked furious, but they were also pointless; Angelina caught the next Quaffle and, when she sensed she might be cornered, threw it underhand to Ellie, who ducked low and caught it, swooping back up and scoring their third goal.
"Gryffindor's up to thirty now, and Slytherin's still at zero!" Lee shouted. "Will they catch up by the time the Snitch is caught? Potter doesn't seem to have an eye on it, nor does—" But he was interrupted by the crowd gasping as, for the fist time, a Slytherin caught the Quaffle: a Chaser named Adrian Pucey.
Ellie tried to reach him, but Katie was closer, and it was her turn. She darted over to Pucey and reached for the Quaffle, but he knocked into her. Obviously angry, she knocked back, and he, and finally she did so hard that he was slammed sideways and almost unseated. She took the opportunity to grab the Quaffle and toss it to Ellie, who tossed it to Angelina after a few seconds. Angelina scored.
Their winning streak continued for quite a nice amount of time until the game reached ninety to thirty. Ellie was mad they'd gotten than far, but she knew thirty wasn't nearly as much as ninety. She glanced around to find Harry, who should have caught the Snitch by now. Then she saw it.
He was on his broom near the middle of the field, but his broom was jerking about unsteadily, clearly not by his command. If he had a school broom she might've passed it off as bad polishing; but this was a Nimbus Two Thousand, and a new one. It wasn't supposed to do this.
She shot back into focus when a Bludger nearly hit her, surprising herself by gingerly plucking the Quaffle from Montague, who was holding it and sneaking past her. She scored a goal, then turned back to Harry.
He was clearly jinxed at this point; Lee was commenting on it, and everyone in the audience looked either pleased or infuriated. She searched the stands for Ron and Hermione, and saw rather worried expressions on their faces, but knew she had to play the game. She caught the ball from Katie and sent it to Angelina, then sighed and glanced back at Harry, who was about to fall off.
She strained her mind. She'd read about a Shield Charm, one that should protect him from whatever jinx someone was using… but she'd never tried it. It was advanced. She wasn't, not even in Charms, not that kind of advanced. But it was worth a try. She avoided being slammed into by Flint, then pulled out her wand, pointed it at Harry, and yelled nervously but clearly, "Protego!"
The effect was instantaneous: For a second, he sat rather precariously perched on his slanted broom; then he righted himself and zoomed off. Once he saw that he had control, he spun around and gave Ellie a thumbs-up and a very thankful look. The Slytherins were shouting something about unfairness, but she wasn't reprimanded for it.
The game probably wouldn't last much longer, because Harry was clearly going to be the first to catch the Snitch. He was zooming around the field so fast, she doubted whether he could see anything. But the Snitch did stand out, with its glinting gold, and she trusted Harry to know what he was doing.
She got back into the game to see that Angelina had scored two goals since she'd helped Harry. The Slytherins looked furious, but worse, they looked like they were planning something.
She glanced at two of them, Montague and Flint. They both had sneers on their faces, and were looking straight at Angelina, who had the Quaffle in her arm again.
Ellie flew over to Katie, who hadn't noticed. "They're up to something!" she shouted.
Katie glanced at the Chasers, who were inching up to Angelina. "Then let's go," she shouted back, and she and Ellie zoomed over to the rest of them. Montague and Flint were closing in on Angelina, but no sooner had they done that than Ellie and Katie flew at them from behind, giving them sharp kicks in the backs. Angelina ducked downward and then back up, and tossed the Quaffle to Ellie, who made a long shot and scored a goal.
Ellie waited to be disciplined for the kicking, but none came. She supposed it was justified, as they were trying to do something worse to Angelina.
The game was still exciting as Quidditch could be, but she had to admit it was getting long. She wasn't sure Gryffindor could stay ahead forever, and sure enough, the disaster happened shortly after: Flint grabbed one of his Beaters' bats and directed a Bludger straight at Oliver, who fell painfully to the ground.
Furious, she worked harder than before with Angelina and Katie to score three more goals, but she was silently begging Harry to find the Snitch. They couldn't keep the Quaffle away from the Slytherins forever, and once they got it, there would be no defense.
But she noticed with relief that he had seen it. She saw the flash in Harry's eyes, the gathering speed of his shiny, new Nimbus: he had seen the Snitch.
"Go, Harry!" she could help but shout, before rounding on Pucey and intercepting the Quaffle thrown to him. She got a taste of her own medicine, however, when Flint knocked into Angelina and grabbed the Quaffle midair. It didn't matter, though; Harry was getting closer, closer, and…
Her heart sank. He had fallen. If they lost their Seeker, there was no hope for the rest of the game.
But Lee didn't make it sound over. "Wait," he was saying over the intercom (or whatever magical intercom it was—she'd have to make reference to that for whenever they finally got around to their band), "he's not going away… he's sort of retching… and—"
The crowd gasped as something unexpected came out of Harry's mouth: a little gold ball Ellie was fairly certain was the Snitch. Sure enough, Lee was erupting with joy, "He's got it! Harry Potter caught the Snitch and won the game for Gryffindor!"
Ellie cheered happily as she touched back down. The twins touched seconds after her, dismounting and yanking her along to congratulate Harry.
"Bloody fantastic, Harry," George was saying. "Never had a practice like that. 'Course, they'll have to get a new Snitch, or some very good sanitizer. But, still."
Harry and Ellie laughed as Fred gave his own compliments, and the four of them ran eagerly back to the common rooms, receiving several glares from defeated Slytherins.
The next day was a Sunday, and Ellie made up her mind to spend the entire day with Fred and George. She felt like she took them for granted, but days spent with them were always more interesting, so she shouldn't.
She came into their dorm early, and no one complained, as almost everyone was asleep. Lee Jordan greeted her with an easy nod, and she didn't recognize the other third-year Gryffindor boys.
"Oi," she said, sitting on Fred's legs. To her delight, he and George were both asleep. She'd been trying all year to catch them when they were in their pyjamas, and it was already November. Finally she did; Fred was in green plaid pants with a Bertie Botts t-shirt, and George in blue plaid pants with a Chocolate Frogs t-shirt.
"You guys are such lame twins," she said cheerfully. Fred grumbled something before opening his eyes. Then he shot out of bed with a bit of a yelp. She laughed.
"Not fair!" George sputtered from the other bed. "Warning next time. You're lucky we're dressed."
Lee gave him a look. "Are you implying you dress nude?"
"I'm implying she should've warned us," George corrected moodily, and sank back down into his bed. "What's so important anyway?"
"The Weasleys," she replied, and turned to Fred. "The band, not the people."
His sleepy face grew a little interested. "Oh?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I was thinking, while this whole Philosopher's Stone, Hagrid, three-headed-dog thing is really important—" she said this in a rather hushed voice, ignoring Lee's hurt expression that she was keeping secrets "—so is having fun. So why don't we ask McGonagall about having a Christmas concert?"
Lee, obviously not in the mood to be ignored, gave a yawn and left the room. Since everyone else was asleep, Fred and George didn't seem to hold back.
"That'd be brilliant!" George exclaimed. "My drumming is going excellently. I can play all of those covers you gave me."
She smiled. She'd given him recordings of bands like the White Stripes and Aerosmith, who typically didn't have hard drum parts. Still, she'd noticed his progress.
"You've heard me," Fred added. "Guitar's fine. Though I guess you'll want me to sing?"
She nodded. "I can do one or two songs, maybe. I'm all right at singing, if I have a point to make. So we can just trade the guitar when the other isn't singing."
He nodded back. "Lovely," he said cheerfully. "But we don't have a bass player."
"I know. But maybe McGonagall will let Ginny come for the holidays?"
Fred's smile widened, and George asked eagerly, "When do we ask?"
-END-
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