Chapter Ten
The Quidditch Captain
–
Apology is a lovely perfume; it can transform
the clumsiest moment into a gracious gift.
–
I'd woken up before Fred and George, no surprise there, considering I really hadn't fallen asleep to begin with. How could I after hearing the conversation between Percy and Dumbledore? How did I know where the Fat Lady was hiding? More than that, how did I not know I knew? I don't know how George managed to sleep with my constant shivering against him. When the sun began to rise, several students started to wake. The early risers were allowed to return to their dormitories, so I took it upon myself to slither out from under George's grasp and head off to try and get at least a nap's worth of sleep in my own bed. I'd only managed to get just outside the Great Hall when I felt a hand take hold of my wrist. It was Percy.
"Bloody hell, Perce," I gasped. "You scared the bogies out of me."
"How did you know where the Fat Lady was hiding?" he inquired bluntly, dark circles evident under his blue eyes.
"I didn't know," I replied. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I know you were eavesdropping on my conversation with Professor Dumbledore," he said. "I've known you long enough to know when you're faking being asleep. Now, tell me how you knew where she was."
"I told you, Percy," I said severely, looking him square in the eyes. "I don't know. I don't even remember saying anything about Argyllshire last night, you lot were the ones who told me I did."
"This isn't a prank?"
"No," I frowned. "Whatever happened to me last night is as much of a mystery to me as it is to you. I'm scared this might happen again, I'm really scared, Perce."
Before I could react, Percy pulled me into a hug. It was probably the most awkward hug on record and that includes the time McGonagall embraced me after realizing I wasn't going to croak from falling off my broom against Slytherin my second year. Bludger to the head, three minutes in, Fred and George still say it's only improved my IQ. Bloody plonkers. Anyways, I didn't hug Percy back. I just sort of stood there, rigid as a board, not like he noticed. My face was shoved so hard against his chest that I could barely breathe. I don't think Percy was accustomed to gestures of affection. I struggled to turn my head to the side, one eye wide open while the other couldn't open at all.
"It's going to be alright, Freddie," he said kindly. "We're like family, I won't let you become a raging tosspot."
"Thanks, Percy," I managed to choke out. "But for now I'm a bit more concerned with being able to breathe –"
"Oh, right, sorry," he said, embarrassed as he quickly released me. His face turned as red as a tomato. Percy and I had never really gotten along all that well. I loved the bloke, don't get me wrong, but our personalities went together like peanut butter and ketchup.
"'S alright," I shrugged, amused at his brief window of candor.
"But if you have a repeat incident then come to me straight away," he urged.
"Will do," I smirked, giving him a mock salute. "Thanks, Perce. You know, you can be pretty decent when you're not being an uptight prat."
"I can say the same about you when you're not being an immature twit," he said, a rare smile sneaking across his thin lips.
"It's too bad you'll always be an uptight prat, and I'll always be an immature twit," I smiled.
"Yeah," he chuckled lightly, almost in a sad way.
"Er- well, I'm off to try and sneak in an hour or two of sleep before the twins wake me up for some shenanigans you will undoubtedly disapprove of," I sighed.
"Right," he said curtly. "You'll find Sir Cadogen is the temporary replacement for the Fat Lady."
"Sir Cadogen?" I scoffed. "That tosser knight from the seventh floor? That bloke is off his trolley, always shouting nonsense about duels to anyone who passes by his portrait."
"None of the other pictures wanted the job," said Percy. "You can hardly blame them. Sir Cadogen was the only one brave enough to volunteer."
"I think you're confusing brave with insane," I replied.
"Well, that's neither here nor there," said Percy. "You just need to know the new password is Hurdling Hippogriffs. I'll walk you –"
"'S alright, Perce," a familiar voice interrupted. "I'm on my way there as well, I'll escort McKinnon. You're needed here anyhow."
Oliver.
"Ah, Wood," said Percy, nodding at the taller seventh year. "Thank you."
Oliver was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes, clearly he did not receive a decent night's sleep either. His hair was unkempt as well as the clothes he had worn the previous day and been forced to sleep in. I felt a blush fighting to spread across my cheeks when I realized how handsome he looked with his several pieces of his usually pristine hair sticking up in different directions. Therefore, I did what I always did, I went on the defense to stop myself from displaying any real sense of emotion.
"I don't need an escort from anyone," I frowned, rolling my eyes.
"You're a pain," said Oliver. "You know that, McKinnon?"
"And you're an annoying –"
"Get a move on, Winifred," said Percy, returning to his severe demeanor, "and don't be such a prat."
Oliver and I walked in silence all the way down the open corridor, making certain Percy had completely disappeared back inside the Great Hall. Once the coast was clear, Oliver tentatively took my hand in his.
"So I'm a pain, eh?" I teased.
"And I'm annoying, huh?" he chuckled.
"That surprises you?" I grinned. "I would have thought you would have come to terms with your annoyingness by now."
"How could I not with so many reminders from you over the years?" he smirked.
We returned to our silent stroll for several minutes before Oliver spoke again.
"So what was all that with Percy, if you don't mind me asking?" asked Wood, peering down at me. "You two have never been partial to casual conversation between the pair of you."
"I just had a nightmare, and he was checking up on me," I explained, attempting to remain nonchalant and failing miserably, "nothing major."
"Now why do I find that hard to believe?" he grinned coyly.
"It's the truth," I insisted. "He's just making mountains out of molehills."
"So what was this nightmare about then?" he inquired.
"I dreamt that I was dating this nosy Quidditch Captain who asked too many questions," I teased, trying to change the subject. "It was traumatizing, really."
"Alright, alright," Oliver mused, placing a sloppy kiss on the top of my head. "If you don't want to talk about then you don't have to."
–
The school talked of nothing but Sirius Black for the next few days. The theories about how he had entered the castle became wilder and wilder; Maddy Crouch, from Ravenclaw, spent much of our next Divination class telling anyone who'd listen that Black must be using a polyjuice potion to take the form of Mrs. Norris. To be honest, it was the most logical explanation I'd heard, not surprising considering it came from a Ravenclaw, the smartest one at that. I'd overheard Hannah Abbot, from Hufflepuff, rambling on about Black turning into a flowering shrub. Give me a bleeding break.
The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan and his fat gray pony. Nobody was very happy about this, as I expected. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels, and the rest thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day. He was an utter tosspot.
The weather worsened as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch because of Sirius Black's vendetta against our four-eyes Seeker. Then, at the final training session before Saturday's match, Oliver gave us all some unwelcome news.
"We're not playing Slytherin!" he told us, looking angrier than I'd seen him all year."Montague's just told me," Oliver's eyes lingered on me a moment longer than everyone else. "We're playing Hufflepuff instead."
"Why?" chorused the rest of us.
"Montague's excuse is that their Seeker's arm's still injured," said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. "But it's obvious why they're doing it. Don't want to play in this weather. Think it'll damage their chances..."
There had been strong winds and heavy rain all day, and as Oliver spoke, we heard a distant rumble of thunder.
"There's nothing wrong with Malfoy's arm!" said Harry furiously. "He's faking it!"
"I know that, but we can't prove it," said Wood bitterly. "And we've been practicing all those moves assuming we're playing Slytherin, and instead it's Hufflepuff, and their style's quite different. They've got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory –"
Angelina and Katie suddenly giggled. I merely rolled my eyes.
"What?" asked Oliver, frowning at their sudden lighthearted behavior.
"They fancy him," I said apathetically, earning furrowed brows from the boys. "Most girls think he's rather good-looking."
"He's tall and handsome," said Angelina whimsically, spotting Fred's gaze narrow out of the corner of my eye.
"Strong and silent," said Katie, and they started to giggle again.
"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together," said Fred impatiently.
"I have to agree with Fred, as much as I hate to admit it," I smirked, winking at him in jest. "We used to play with us when we were kids, seeing as he lives down the road from us. Diggory's the kind of bloke that has never been known to use a word that would send a reader to a dictionary."
George, Fred, and Harry snickered at my comment, and I swear I even saw a brief smirk from Oliver before he swallowed it away.
"But really, Oliver, I don't know why you're worried," said George. "Hufflepuff is a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch within the first five minutes, remember?"
"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Oliver shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We mustn't relax! We must keep our focus! Slytherin is trying to wrong-foot us! We must win!"
"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously."
–
Herbology with the Slytherins was not exactly something I had to look forward to when I woke up in the morning, a headache already ruining my day before it had even truly begun. The weather remained dreary and dim, sucking the life out of any possibility I had for a cheerful day. I brushed my hair in a hurry, tied my unruly locks into my two, long signature pigtails, tossed on my uniform and fumbled down the stairs to meet the boys for class. We'd decided as a whole that breakfast on days that occupied any class with the Slytherins were not worthy of breakfast, fifteen minutes into class it already felt like our morning meal would be resurfacing the way it entered anyhow thanks to the combination of the grotesque aroma of the dung daffodils and Montague's hygienic deficiencies.
We were all still in rotten moods from hearing the news that our first match had been rescheduled to be against Hufflepuff and knowing we were about to see the brains behind that entire facade only made our inevitably dismal class all the more gloomy.
"Your beauty captivates me, milady," said Sir Cadogan, bowing to me in his clanging armor as I exited the portrait hole after Fred, George, and Lee.
"He's a complete barmpot," I muttered, glaring at the nutter knight from over my shoulder.
"He'd have to be barmy to be captivated by your beauty," George teased.
"He says that to every girl, you prat," I retorted, rubbing my forehead zealously, "so sod off."
"Oh, I can already tell that you're just going to be a ray of sunshine today," said Fred, ruffling his unkempt hair through his fingers. "Let's hurry and get to the dungeons because with a combination of yours and Montague's cheery dispositions all together in one room I'm sure that I'll be pissing rainbows by noon after all the pleasantness I'll undoubtedly absorb."
"Fred, you should consider yourself lucky that it's too early for me to have enough energy to deck you," I yawned, "because if it were after noon then the only thing you could count on pissing would be blood."
"Merlin, what would I do without you?" said Fred, wrapping his arm around my shoulders lazily and pulled me against him into some sort of hug I suppose.
"Probably suffer a fifty percent decrease in detentions," I smirked, wrapping my arms around his waist momentarily.
"Chances are high," said Fred.
We ran into Angelina before departing onto the grounds, and had gotten nearly halfway to the greenhouses before we ran into the barbarian himself. Montague Adrian Pucey were immaturely shoving each other from behind us. Fred and George kept trying to turn around and start something with the lot of them, but I kept a firm hold on either of their arms whilst still trying to hold George's jacket that he'd lent me to shield myself from the heavy downpour. The two boys kept shouting offensive, sexual comments directed towards me while I fought my own temperament to stop myself from retorting. When they began tossing gravel at our backs from behind, my fingernails had nearly pierced through my entire palm.
"I wager you lot are pretty distraught you won't get to see Slytherins' remarkable skills this weekend," Adrian Pucey teased from behind us. "Too bad Draco's injured, we were really looking forward to pummeling you into oblivion."
"Sod off, Pucey," George yelled back at the roguish Slytherin Chaser. "You know as well as we do that Malfoy's faking that injury to give you lot an excuse not to play in this weather."
"Aw, sounds like you're not too confident in your teams abilities if you're so upset that you have to play Hufflepuff," said Adrian, clocking me in the back of the knee with a stone. "Is that fear I smell, Weasley?"
"Montague, you don't know the meaning of the word fear," said Lee. "In fact, you don't know the meaning of most words."
"And that smell... that's not fear, it's just you," I retorted. "For the sake of humanity, Graham, pick up a bar of soap."
"And the only mildly frightening thing about the Slytherin Quidditch team that I can think of would be how terrifyingly low your combined IQ's are," George retorted.
"If we were competing against one another for the highest number number of players required to change a light bulb then you lot would be a shoe-in for the Cup," said Angelina viciously.
"However, considering the fact that you require actual talent and strategic skills to win a Quidditch match it appears as if you're likelihood for success if pretty dismal," said Fred, adding to Angelina's comment and smiling approvingly at her.
"Well, I will admit that you lot would defeat us is one subset," said Montague in a sickening seductive voice.
"What's that, Montague?" asked Lee fiercely, pronouncing Graham's surname as if it were cancerous.
"The best arse," he smirked. "McKinnon would be the MVP in that department."
I rolled my eyes. I knew he was going to say that because he'd said it before. When the door to the greenhouses came within reach, I was ecstatic to be able to get away from the moronic remarks from him for awhile at least.
"You better shut your goddamn mouth, Montague!" George shouted at the neanderthal.
"Aw, Graham, it looks like he's pretty protective of his ittle girlfriend," Pucey teased in his baby voice. "You're not going to take that, are you?"
"Of course I'm not going to take that," called Montague, "especially not from someone whose family takes handouts from beggars."
The two monstrous Slytherins erupted in laughter.
"Oh, that's it," I planted down one heel in the earth and pivoted about to face him. I prepared to charge the giant oaf, but I was beaten to he punch. Fred, George, and Lee had already propelled themselves towards the pair. Angelina had wrapped her arms around my waist and hoisted me in the air as I fought to free myself from her grasp. Now I knew why George was so mad at me for holding him back from Montague during our first Potion's lesson of the year. It was infuriating feeling completely helpless.
"Winnie, stop fighting," Angeline pleaded. "It's pointless, you know the barmy git is practically turned on my masochism anyway. You'd just be leading him on with every punch you throw."
A flash of light erupted and shot the five boys in five different directions, the stunning spell courtesy of Professor Sprout. Fred and Adrian literally had their heels over their heads from the shock. Angelina knew it was safe to release me once the brawl was broken up. George had a small gash upon his lip and Pucey already had a bruise growing around his left eye.
"Gentlemen, restrain yourselves," said Professor Sprout, her hands on her hips. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, ten from Slytherin, five for each of your digressions."
"But, Professor—" I started.
"I don't want to hear it, Ms. McKinnon," she replied. "You're lucky I don't take another five points from Gryffindor and make it an even twenty, considering your track record shows you are typically less than innocent in most deviant situations. Now, all of you, inside before I can add tardiness to your list of offenses."
"Yes, Professor," the seven of us mumbled.
Adrian led the way through the greenhouse door, undoubtedly to tell a heroic tale in which he clobbered the three Gryffindors for contesting Slytherin's noble honor. Fred and Angelina followed after him, muttering between the two of them about how Slytherins should all be sterilized or something or other whilst Lee and George began reenacting the fight in dramatic fashion all the while Professor Sprout glared at the pair of them for being proud of their immature display. She completely missed Graham extending his arm and grabbing my bottom.
"Yep, MVP for sure," he smirked wickedly in my ear.
I turned about hastily, not missing a beat, and punched him square in the nose. He groaned loudly, clasping his injured body part while a steady flow of blood began to trickle through his thick closed fingers. I grabbed his tie and yanked him a close to me as my strength would allow.
"Touch me again, Graham Montague, and there will be a certain other bodily appendage I'd be more worried about if I were you," I whispered ferociously, releasing his tie like it was garbage.
"Ms. McKinnon?" Professor Sprout gasped, looking from me to Montague and back again.
"Yeah, better make that an even twenty after all, Professor," I said apathetically, turning my back to the entire scene and taking my usual seat beside Angelina, extremely pleased with myself.
–
A loud rumble of thunder woke me not long after four, the sun hadn't even thought about rising yet. Grumbling to myself, I rolled over and clutched my pillow around my head. It was too late, however, since that one loud jolt had woken me, I found it impossible to ignore the following earsplitting roars from the pitch black sky. I gave in to the storm and slowly rolled over to sit up on the side of my bed, rubbing my eyes with my closed fists. My long, raven hair was sticking out every which way from my enormous, loose bun. I simply took out my hairband and threw my lengthy locks back into a large, now tighter bun. Then I reached for my Quidditch robes from my closet and lazily dressed myself, grabbed my Nimbus and headed out the dormitory without a single sound.
The noise of the storm was even louder in the common room. I knew better than to think the match would be canceled; Quidditch matches weren't called off for trifles like thunderstorms. I came across Harry, who was sitting before the fire. We merely nodded to one another, neither of us awake enough to speak just yet. I hadn't been downstairs with Harry more than a few minutes before I saw Oliver descending the coiled staircase, looking unusually awake for someone out and about before five in the morning. His eyes were like saucers, his mind obviously erratic.
"Good morning," he said as if he'd just digested a pound of caffeine.
"Morning, Wood," I smirked. "You seem chipper."
"It's a match day," he replied simply. "I'm just mentally preparing myself."
"Ah, so that's what that is," I grinned wickedly. "I was wondering with that deer-in-headlights expression translated to."
"I am quite conscious, McKinnon," said Oliver. "Now, if you excuse me, I'm going to go for my morning run about the castle. I'll see to you both at breakfast."
Without blinking, even once, Oliver pivoted like a robot to exit out the portrait hole. Harry and I stared on after him before Harry finally spoke for the first time, turning to face me.
"Merlin, he's weird," he smirked.
"If that isn't the understatement of the century," I nodded, eyeing the portrait hole as it slammed shut behind him.
Harry and I whiled away the hours until dawn in front of the fire, getting up every now and then to stop Crookshanks from sneaking up the boys' staircase again. Oliver returned an hour or so later to grab his robe to shower before changing into his uniform. At long last Harry and I thought it must be time for breakfast, so we headed through the portrait hole together.
"Stand and fight, you mangy cur!" yelled Sir Cadogen at Harry while he held the portrait open for me to walk ahead of him. "You are not worthy of such a damsel!"
"Oh, shut up," Harry yawned, both of us rolling our eyes at the idiotic painting.
–
Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual, but they ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as they went. Just before we entered the locker room, I saw Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Montague laughing and pointing at the lot of us from under an enormous umbrella on their way to the stadium. My blood began to boil, clenching my fists as a reflex.
The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Wood's usual pre-match pep talk, but it didn't come. He tried to speak several times, made an odd gulping noise, then shook his head hopelessly and beckoned us to follow him. I felt sympathetic for him, sending him a sad yet encouraging smile. We lined up to exit the lockers, Oliver remaining in the rear instead taking his usual position of leading us all onto the field. Pretending to adjust my bootstraps while the others walked on ahead, I took hold of Oliver's hand before he followed suit and held him in place. I slowly took to my feet and placed a soft kiss upon his cheek. His expression relaxed significantly after I pulled away, the corners of his mouth curling into a feeble, thankful grin for a quick second. He leaned in and kissed my lips, closing his eyes for one euphoric moment. Then he pulled away, resting his forehead against mine lazily before finally mentally collecting himself enough to return to the field.
The wind was so strong that we staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, I couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Oliver now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded, quite the opposite of his minute of relaxation just moments prior. I saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount Your brooms." I pulled my right foot out of the mud with a squelch and swung it over my Nimbus Two Thousand and One. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a blast that sounded shrill and distant — we were off.
I rose fast, but my Nimbus was swerving slightly with the wind. I held it as steady as I could and turned, squinting into the rain. Within five minutes we were all soaked to our skin and frozen, hardly able to see my own hand before my face. Every time I received the Quaffle from either Angelina or Katie it felt as if my hand would shatter. My palms down to my fingertips were virtually frozen solid, any impact caused immense pain upon my skin. We were up by twenty points before I threw the Quaffle by the Hufflepuff Keeper, giving us a thirty point lead. I looked up at Harry for just a quick moment, he appeared like he was unable to function. I prayed that he would snap out of it and catch the Snitch and soon. It was getting harder and harder to hold his broom straight. The sky was getting darker, as though night had decided to come early. The rain was growing thicker and the wind stronger if that was even possible.
It was 140 to 100, Gryffindor when I lost all feeling of my body. I'd actually had a pretty decent game, besides the whole positively miserable circumstances. I was leading in points scored with seventy. Swerving by the sole male Hufflepuff Chaser, I threw the Quaffle through the left goal post, eighty points total.
150 to 100, Gryffindor.
With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle; I could just see the outline of Wood through the thick rain, gesturing us to the ground. The whole team splashed down into the mud.
"I called for time-out!" Wood roared at us. "Come on, under here —"
We huddled at the edge of the field under a large umbrella; Harry took off his glasses and wiped them hurriedly on his robes.
"What's the score?"
"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."
"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.
At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. She and Harry began muttering back and forth about his glasses repelling water or something, I couldn't really hear what they were saying even from only a few feet away. I felt Fred's hands rub up and down my shoulders, a sad attempt to warm me up. My teeth were literally chattering, my entire body trembling from the cold.
"Merlin, I'm sweating out here," Fred joked, wrapping his arm around me and pulling me against him to share body heat. "I'm about ready to take off my shirt, but I think Madam Hooch would call a foul on us for too sexy of a distraction."
I chuckled lightly, my lungs barely able to exhale. Fred, along with George, looked like they'd just dove into the lake with their uniforms on. Their straggly red hair clung to their cheeks like mine did, their lips a fresh shade of blue. I imagined mine must have been the same color.
"You're having a good match," said George, his lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "I guess your whole drowned rat look isn't affecting your game."
"Oh, shut up and try not to get me killed out there," I smirked, punching his arm affectionately. "The Bludgers are practically invisible with the rain and all."
"We're doing our best, Scabbers," he said, referring to me as a drowned rat again as if he was ever so clever. "The Quaffle is a hell of a lot easier to spot than one of those little buggers."
I watched as Harry placed his glasses back on his head, Hermione had apparently fixed his minor disability. Oliver looked as though he could have kissed her.
"Brilliant!" he called hoarsely after her as she disappeared into the crowd. "Okay, team, let's go for it!"
Full of fresh determination, we urged his brooms through the turbulent air. I ducked suddenly, barely avoiding a Bludger, and then I proceeded to shout words I won't repeat at the Twins for missing the Bludger that had nearly struck me across the head right after I had pressed them to keep their eyes pealed for the bloody things. Hufflepuff scored another goal with Angelina countering it with another score only moments after.
There was another clap of thunder, followed immediately by forked lightning. This was getting more and more dangerous. Harry needed to get the Snitch quickly. I turned, intending to head back toward the middle of the field to catch a pass from Kates, but at that moment, another flash of lightning illuminated the stands, and I saw something that distracted me completely, the silhouette of an enormous shaggy black dog, clearly imprinted against the sky, motionless in the topmost, empty row of seats.
My numb hands slipped on the broom handle and my Nimbus dropped a few feet. Shaking my sodden stray hairs out of my eyes, I squinted back into the stands. The dog had vanished. Was my vision from the crystal ball going to come true? No, of course not, I was no Seer. I has just misinterpreted what I had seen and the storm combined with my lack of sleep was just helping my eyes play tricks on me. That was all.
"Freddie," came George's anguished yell from several feet above me, mid-swing at a Bludger. "Get your head back in the game!"
"Mind your own bloody business!" I retorted fiercely, zooming off to intercept the Quaffle from one of the female Hufflepuff Chasers. I caught Harry chasing after the Snitch out of the corner of my eye and I prayed he would be quick to catch it. I clasped the Quaffle in my hand, tossing it to Angelina who swiftly flew off towards the opposing goal posts, but something odd was suddenly happening that prevented me from following after her. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. It was as though someone had turned off the sound, as though I had gone suddenly deaf — what was going on?
And then a horribly familiar wave of cold swept over me, inside me, just as I became aware of something moving on the field below…
At least a hundred Dementors, their hidden faces pointing up at us, were standing beneath me. It was as though freezing water were rising in my chest, cutting at my insides. And then I heard it again… Someone was screaming, screaming inside my head… a woman… my Mum...
"Sweetheart, you have to be quiet for Mummy," she whispered fiercely. "We're going to play a game, alright? You're going to hide in here until Mummy comes to find you. You have to stay quiet though, darling, if you make a sound then the game is over and the bad guys win. Understand?"
Her voice was shaky and crazed, her hands trembling as she held me close against her and lifted up the floor rug that was attached to a few floorboards. The screams from beyond the door grew louder, bloodcurdling screams that froze my insides solid. I covered my ears and shook my head, tears streaming down my cheeks while I fought the urge to whimper. The doorknob continued to jiggle, my Mum looked back at it fretfully once more. With a swift motion, she pulled her golden locket over her head and placed it around mine. She held her palm against my cheek, looking into my eyes one final time. Her emerald green eyes were haunting, so bright they nearly illuminated the pitch black room. Her face was wet from desperate tears, matching mine. She was so young, so strong, so beautiful.
"Mummy loves you, Winnie," she cried, pulling me against her to share an embrace.
"Mum-" I began, but she hushed me instantly.
"You and May look after each other," she whispered. "Don't come out until it's safe. Promise, Mummy, cross your heart."
"Mummy-"
"Promise me!" she hissed.
"Cross my heart," I sniffled, crisscrossing my thumb over my chest.
"That's my girl," she smiled sadly through her flowing tears, pushing a stray strand of dark hair behind my tiny ear.
She placed me in the small crawlspace, closing the floorboards over me. The door burst open and for one second, a second that lasted an eternity, it went completely and utterly silent. Clutching May against my heart, I closed my eyes as tight as I possibly could.
I re-opened my eyes, snapping back to reality. I saw everyone rushing towards Harry, who was unconscious on the ground, Dementors sweeping away from the pitch because of a bright, silver light from Dumbledore's wand. I shook my head clear of my thoughts and swiftly flew downwards after my teammates. Fred and George's necks turned to look at me as I landed harshly upon the soft earth. I gasped at the sight of Harry, he must have fallen... I couldn't even guess how far. I covered my mouth as we watched the teachers kneel to his side to tend to our wounded Seeker. George wrapped his arm around me affectionately, pulling me against him. I gripped my fingers around his maroon jacket, clutching it with worry.
"You okay? The Dementors didn't—" started George, looking down at me with a concerned expression.
"No," I interrupted hastily, shaking my head. "No, I'm fine, really. How's Harry?"
"He's going to be alright," said George unconvincingly, more for my benefit than anything. I nodded slowly in reply, my eyes glued on Harry's motionless body.
I saw Angelina holding her face against Fred's shoulder, his hand gently brushing the back of her head. My mind went to Oliver, looking around for our Captain, he was no where near Harry like the rest of us. No, Oliver was standing before Madam Hooch and Diggory. She was explaining to him that Cedric had caught the Snitch and the opposing Captain was offering for a replay. I suddenly grew angry, why wasn't Oliver worried about Harry like everyone else? His well-being was more important than some stupid Quidditch match. My jaw rigid, I turned back and watched Harry be escorted off the field on a stretcher.
"Mr. Potter is going to be tended to by Madam Pomphrey," said McGonagall, addressing the five of us that were in the general area. "He should make a full recovery, not to worry. You can go and see to him as soon as you like."
"Thanks, Professor," said Katie, smiling weakly with gratitude.
The sky seemed to absorb the sullen dispositions of those below and decided to release an even more furious downpour in response. I pulled my hood of my uniform over my head and looked up at Fred and George with a fretful expression. We had just turned to leave and visit Harry when Oliver strode in front of the lot of us, cutting off our path to the castle. He looked despondent but for a completely separate reason.
"It looks like Hufflepuff is going to be able to call this a victory," said Oliver, totally unaware of why we all appeared so depressed. "Diggory caught the Snitch, fair and square. He offered to have a replay, but I'm not going to let him do that. I'm not going to take advantage of his stellar sportsmanship–"
"Wood–" Angelina began.
"Now, I can tell by the looks on all your faces that you're all as distressed about the outcome of this match as I am–"
"Oliver–" Katie interrupted.
"Believe me, no one is more upset than I am," he said sadly, lowering his head and shaking it from side to side. "But we're going to have to take this with a grain of salt and just play flawlessly for the remainder of the season. Now, let's hit the showers so we can fit in a quick strategy meeting before returning to–"
"Are you daft?" I snapped, everyone's eyes widening in surprise at my abrupt interjection. "We're not upset because we lost. We're upset because Harry was nearly killed. You'd realize that if you could think of something besides Quidditch for two bloody seconds, you selfish git!"
My fellow teammates were so taken aback from my outburst that no one spoke, no one moved. All that was heard was a small uh sound that was released from Katie's mouth just after her jaw dropped. No one appeared more surprised than Oliver, himself. His mouth opened and closed several times before he could find the proper words to respond, I could all the while feel George and Fred's eyes searing a whole in the back of my skull.
"McKinnon, may I have a word?" asked Oliver shallowly, narrowing his gaze.
I swiftly tore away from George's arm and strode forward. Oliver took a firm hold of my elbow and pulled out of earshot, leaning in so we were only inches from each other. My face must have appeared murderous.
"How dare you disrespect me in front of my team? I'm still your superior, Winnie," he snapped. "What's gotten into you?"
"What's gotten into me? I hissed. "What's gotten into you? You're being incredibly self-centered, and your team, Oliver? We're your friends before your inferiors. A team is supposed be on an equal playing field, and you're acting like an egomaniacal prat. You shouldn't be lecturing us about winning and losing. You should be concerned for the well-being of your teammate! Those Dementors did a number on Harry, and he's really hurt. It almost sounds like you're blaming him for what happened. We win as a team, we lose as a team, Wood."
"You're being ridiculous," he spat. "I'm not blaming Harry, I only wish he managed to take care of his little Dementor phobia before–"
"You say one more word, Oliver Wood, and I swear to Merlin that you'll be in worse shape than Harry," I interrupted fiercely. "We're going to see Harry and if you were any kind of real Captain then you would join us."
Without another word, I yanked my arm free of his grip and returned to Ang, Katie, and the Twins. I muttered something like "Let's go," and the foursome followed after me as I stomped towards the Hospital Wing, exchanging shocked glances. Part of me expected Oliver to come with us, but he remained planted in the spot I left him. I caught him shuffling off towards the showers over my shoulder as we came to the top of the hill before Hogwarts.
"Christ, Freddie, what was that all about?" asked Fred as he came up from behind me, an amused grin across his youthful face.
"Nothing, he's just a Quidditch-obsessed git," I mumbled, my eyes glued straight ahead.
"Wood has always been like that and it's never bothered you before," said Fred. "What's changed?"
What had changed? I was dating him, that was what had changed. I expected more from him. I expected him to act like a respectable human being. Was that too much to ask? I think what made me the most upset was the mere fact that I had quite a bit of expectations in this relationship I'd been sharing with Oliver over the last month, and I was scared more than anything that I was just looking for something to make him imperfect. He'd been flawless until this very moment, and I was scared that I was intentionally sabotaging my own relationship with him. However, another part of me was worried that I was falling for this boy way too fast, and I was overlooking his flaws until now. Maybe I needed to open my eyes, maybe I had been blind to his faults, maybe this relationship wasn't meant to last, or maybe I was just being overdramatic.
"I'm just sick of it is all," I frowned.
"Whatever you say," said Fred warily.
–
"Lucky the ground was so soft," said Katie.
"I thought he was dead for sure," said Ron, who had been the first to arrive in the Hospital Wing along with Hermione in toe.
"But he didn't even break his glasses," said Hermione in a shaky voice. "That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."
Harry's eyes snapped open to see the lot of us spattered with mud from head to foot, gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were the only outsiders besides the Gryffindor Quidditch team... minus Oliver that is, we all looked as though we'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.
"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath, the mud. "How're you feeling?"
"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.
"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been — what — fifty feet?"
I clutched a blanket, Madam Pomphrey had supplied each one of us, closer against me. I knew exactly what Harry meant. He wanted to know about the Dementors but didn't know how to ask and really didn't want to know the answer to begin with. He merely accepted Fred's stilted reply.
"We thought you'd died," said Katie, who was shaking under her blanket as well.
Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.
"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a rematch?"
No one said anything. I shivered as I replayed the argument I had shared with Oliver in my head. I had hoped he would redeem himself and surprise us all by meeting us in the Hospital Wing. I was wrong.
"We didn't — lose?"
"Diggory got the Snitch," said George, looking over at me. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it."
Everyone but Harry, Ron and Hermione's eyes shot onto me, and I pretended I didn't notice.
"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.
"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."
"Fingers crossed he succeeds," I muttered, earning an odd glare from Angelina.
Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. George grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.
"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before," said George gently. "There had to be one time you didn't get it."
I looked over at the gangly redhead whose kind gesture appeared to have worked mildly on our youngest teammate. I'd never realized how blue George's eyes were before, they were rather handsome really. He turned his head slightly to the side and caught my gaze, furrowing his brows with curiosity to why I was staring at him, mouthing "What?" to me. I blushed, smiled awkwardly while shrugging and returned my attention to Harry without a second thought.
"It's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points."
"Right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…" I said, trying to grasp what the conversation was about once again.
"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.
"But if they beat Ravenclaw…" said Kates.
"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…" he continued thinking out loud.
"It all depends on the points — a margin of a hundred either way—" said Fred.
Harry lay there, not saying a word. I think he was in shock from losing his first ever Quidditch match. It wasn't a great feeling. I remembered it well.
After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell us to leave him in peace.
"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."
"Thanks," said Harry as we turned to leave, trailing mud behind us. "Er— Winnie, could you stay back a minute?"
Oh, um, sure," I said uneasily, looking at Twins who shrugged slightly. "I'll see you lot back in the Common Room later."
The group nodded and departed out the door, receiving a disapproving glare from Madam Pomphrey because of the mud stains. Ron and Hermione (who attained no mud upon their shoes) ran to retrieve Harry some sweets from dinner while I commandeered Hermione's bedside seat in the meantime. Harry cleared this throat and adjusted his glasses for several minutes while I waited for him to ask me the question I knew he was going to ask me the moment he requested me to wait behind with him.
"Um, Winnie, did er—" he started uncomfortably, scratching the back of his undoubtedly sore neck.
"Yeah, Harry, it happened to me again too," I replied, lessening his awkwardness by finishing his inquisition. "The Dementors had the same effect on me as last time, like on the Express."
"It was so much worse this time," Harry went on, more confidently this time. "I—I could actually hear my Mum's voice this time. It was perfectly clear. She was begging Voldemort (I flinched) to spare my life, Winnie."
"I can hear my Mum too. I can hear everyone, everything," I replied. "I can even see the last moments before— well, you know..."
"It's terrible, isn't it?" said Harry with an upward inflection.
"Yeah, it is," I replied solemnly. "They say to just keep thinking happy thoughts until it's over, but that's easier said than done if you ask me. Half the time they sneak up on you and you're so surprised that you don't have time to think of anything let alone something specific."
"Yeah," Harry grunted.
"I'm sorry, Harry," I said bluntly.
"For what?"
"What you went through must have been much worse than what I did, and I'm sorry you have to relive it this way," I frowned, thinking of how difficult his childhood must have been not knowing the truth. "Those things— those monsters really mess with your psyche."
I felt bad that Harry grew-up believing his parents had been killed in a car crash. He was left still trying to deal with the reality of their murders and it was even more difficult to come to terms with at this age than at the age I had to face it. It's almost easier to face life's greatest challenges when you don't understand them so you can't understand them.
"You were older than I was when... what happened to your mum... er— happened," Harry retorted. "You surely recall what occurred during your last moments together than I do with my Mum. If anyone should be sympathized it should be you—"
"I don't need your sympathy," I said quickly, coming off unintentionally a bit nasty. "Er— that came out wrong, sorry... I just try not to dwell on what happened back then. It was a long time ago, and I barely think about it if I can help it. That's why those bleeding Dementors are so dreadful... they make it so I can't help but remember it."
It was a lie. I thought about it all the time. I was always trying to piece together the final scene that my Mum and I shared, but the missing pieces never seemed to fit. It may sound sick, but a small part of me enjoyed the Dementors' power to bring back my Mum's memory into my mind, a memory I didn't think I had anymore. Maybe with a couple more encounters I would have a complete memory.
"I understand," said Harry, nodding slowly. "You're one of the few people I feel comfortable talking with about my parents because... well, you can empathize. Thanks, Winnie."
"Don't mention it, mate," I smirked. "I'm always here when you need to talk about being an orphan."
Harry scoffed at my ever twisted sense of humor and I simply chuckled lightly. We almost didn't hear the door click open. I didn't turn to see who it was. I knew it would undoubtedly be Ron and Hermione, returning quickly with Harry's treats. But when Harry's lips curled into a feeble smile that was unfamiliar to welcome his two best friends, I turned to see who had entered the room. My jaw slacked slightly. It was Oliver, holding a brown paper bag in one hand.
"Alright there, Harry?" asked Oliver.
"Yeah, thanks," said Harry sadly while Oliver slowly approached his bedside, my eyes following him. "Listen, Wood, I'm really sorry—"
"Don't be, Harry," he interrupted, grinning kindly and closing his eyes for a second. "We win as a team, we lose as a team."
His golden eyes lingered onto me, bringing a brief smile to my face.
"Sorry, I took so long," Oliver continued, extending his arm holding the brown paper bag. "I stopped by my room and grabbed some chocolate frogs. I thought they might make you feel better."
I couldn't believe my eyes. He'd redeemed himself. Maybe he wasn't such a selfish, egomaniacal, Quidditch-obsessed git. Maybe, just maybe, this relationship we had could last after all.
–
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR REVIEWING! I LOVE YOU :)
A/N: This was officially the longest chapter I have ever written out of EVERY fic I have ever written. I'm sure you're wondering how I wrote like over 9,000 words and still managed to say absolutely nothing. Longest filler chapter of all time, right? I know I used a lot from the book in this chapter, but I felt it necessary. Please don't complain about that fact. I get so annoyed when people bitch about that. This may not seem like it, but it took FOR-BLOODY-EVER to write. I kept adding and deleting stuff, and I hate like fifty percent of the damn thing still. However, I am to the point that I am too lazy to edit the formatting anymore, and I have gone too long without updating. I did laugh writing this, though, I don't know why. I will give myself a bit of credit in the comedy department because I thought I did a decent comedic job for once. What do you think?
PS: I leave for England in 3 weeks! YES! I'm going to shoot for finishing Part I of this fic before I leave because I'm moderately close to the end. In fact, I am way closer than I expected to be honest. I downloaded all the books on my laptop as an outline, and I'm around the Firebolt part and knowing how much I put into each chapter I can't see this being more than 3 chapters which makes me feel really shitty because it would make my story a whopping 12 chapters long. I know I average like 6000 words or more a chapter but still... that seems really short. Ugh. Does that bother anyone?
PSS: Sorry for any spelling or grammatical errors. I am up really early, and my brain cannot function before 11:00 A.M. I'll fix it later, cross my heart... get it? ;)
Questions for you: Are you lot Team Oliver or Team George? I am Team George all the way, but I am willing to make some alterations if enough people are disliking Freddie and George. What would you like to see happen before Part I is over? How do you want Fred and (especially) George to react to the news of Winnie and Oliver's relationship? Is Oliver and Freddie's relationship stilted and moving too fast? I think I'm doing a shitty job. You tell me.
Coming Soon: Freddie and Oliver grow closer, the trio passes on the Marauders' Map, Fred grows suspicious, Winnie has another vision that terrifies more than just her, the secret is out and Freddie has to deal with the consequences, Alicia ruins everything, Oliver makes an offer Winnie suddenly can't refuse, chaos and hilarity undoubtedly ensues...
I'll be more inspired to update when I reach 175 reviews :)