Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 10- Felix Felicis
Katie was removed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries the following day, by which time the news that she had been cursed had spread all over the school, though the details were confused and nobody other than Harry, Ron, Hermione, Leanne, Ariana, and I seemed to know that Katie herself had not been the intended target.
"Oh, and Malfoy knows, of course," says Harry to Ron, Hermione, and me, who continue our new policy of feigning deafness whenever Harry mentions his Malfoy-Is-a-Death-Eater theory. Harry actually managed to have his lesson with Dumbledore Saturday night, and that brightened his mood a fair amount.
I on the other hand have been dealing with the backlash that comes with being outed to the entire school about my relationship with a certain young Dumbledore. If it's not the whispers behind hands, snickering and subtle glances, then it's the outright mean and hurtful comments that are spoken to my face or behind my back.
I guess that's what I get for being a fairly popular person and being in love with a girl will get me. As much as my stomach may churn when I walk the halls, just seeing the sight of my happy girlfriend makes it all better. I still have no idea how Ariana walks around like there's nothing going on, but she seems almost oblivious to whispers and stares.
Harry doesn't have time to fill us in about his lesson and what he learned with Dumbledore last night at breakfast. He says that there's too many ears listening for that. "Are you sure that its not too many eyes watching?" I grumble into my plate glaring at a first year that is looking at me like I'm a mythological creature.
So Harry fills us in on our walk across the vegetable patch towards the greenhouse since we have Herbology today. The weekend's brutal wind has died out at last; the weird mist has returned and it takes us a little longer than usual to find the correct greenhouse.
"Wow, scary thought, the boy You-Know-Who," says Ron quietly, as we take our places around one of the gnarled Snargaluff stumps that forms this term's project, and begin pulling on our protective gloves. "But I still don't get why Dumbledore's showing you all this. I mean, it's really interesting and everything, but what's the point?"
"Dunno," says Harry, inserting a gum shield. "But he says it's all important and it'll help me survive.
"I guess too much knowledge about Voldemort is never a bad thing." I say lowly. Ron winces at the name and I roll my eyes at him. My brother seriously has to get over that. Ariana slides in beside me at the last second possible before class starts. I can tell that my friends are mildly hesitant to talk about Harry's lesson with Dumbledore around her.
"Please, do go on. I've lived with my grandfather my entire life, I'm sure what you have to say won't be in the least bit surprising, and I would never do anything to betray Jamie and by extension you. I am on your side after all Harry." Ariana says pulling out her own protective gear.
My friends blush but smile all the same. It is a little harder for us to change our ways by now. It's just always been the four of us on these trips in the first place. It's kind of nice to have more people to rely on.
"I think it's fascinating," says Hermione earnestly continuing on. "It makes absolute sense to know as much about Voldemort as possible. How else will you find out his weaknesses?"
"So how was Slughorn's latest party?" Harry asks her thickly through the gum shield.
"Oh, it was quite fun, really," says Hermione, now putting on protective goggles, I groan at her enthusiasm. "I mean, he drones on about famous ex-pupils a bit, and he absolutely fawns on McLaggen because he's so well-connected, but he gave us some really nice food and he introduced us to Gwenog Jones."
"Gwenog Jones?" says Ron, his eyes widening under his own goggles. "The Gwenog Jones? Captain of the Holyhead Harpies? Tell me you got me an autograph Jamie!"
"Not in the slightest." I reply, much to his despairing moan.
"We were a little distracted." Ariana admits, and I blush. Yes we were trying to find covert ways to have a food war with Ginny and have no one notice.
"That's right," says Hermione. "Personally, I thought she was a bit full of herself, but —"
"Quite enough chat over here!" says Professor Sprout briskly, bustling over and looking stern. "You're lagging behind, everybody else has started, and Neville's already got his first pod!"
We look around; sure enough, there sits Neville with a bloody lip and several nasty scratches along the side of his face, but clutching an unpleasantly pulsating green object about the size of a grapefruit.
"Okay, Professor, we're starting now!" says Ron, adding quietly, when she has turned away again, "should've used Muffliato, Harry."
"That another spell from your book?" Ariana asks curiously. Harry looks very hesitant.
"Yes." He says slowly.
"No, we shouldn't!" says Hermione at once, looking, as she always does, intensely cross at the thought of the Half-Blood Prince and his spells. "Well, come on . . . we'd better get going. . . ."
She gives the four of us an apprehensive look; we all take deep breaths and then dive at the gnarled stump between us.
It springs to life at once; long, prickly, bramblelike vines fly out of the top and whip through the air. One tangles itself in Hermione's hair, and Ron beats it back with a pair of secateurs; Harry succeeds in trapping a couple of vines and knotting them together; Ariana and I grab the rest of the squirmy vines and hold on, a hole opens in the middle of all the tentaclelike branches; Hermione plunges her arm bravely into this hole, which closes like a trap around her elbow; Harry, Ron, Ariana, and I tug and wrench at the vines, forcing the hole to open again, and Hermione snatches her arm free, clutching in her fingers a pod just like Neville's. At once, the prickly vines shoot back inside, and the gnarled stump sits there looking like an innocently dead lump of wood.
"If only one of us could do that when Malfoy or Parkinson is near." I mutter. Ariana giggles beside me mopping at her cheek but smearing dirt there instead.
"You know, I don't think I'll be having any of these in my garden when I've got my own place," says Ron, pushing his goggles up onto his forehead and wiping sweat from his face.
"Pass me a bowl," says Hermione, holding the pulsating pod at arm's length; Harry hands one over and she drops the pod into it with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't be squeamish, squeeze it out, they're best when they're fresh!" calls Professor Sprout.
"Anyway," says Hermione, continuing our interrupted conversation as though a lump of wood did not just attack us, "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Harry, and there's no way you'll be able to wriggle out of this one because he actually asked me to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you can come."
"Yes then he had me double check it so that there weren't any Quidditch conflicts. I swear that's one of the only words he's spoken to me since the beginning." I say with a grimace.
"That's because you make sure that he knows that you don't like him all that much." Ariana points out. She does have a point there.
Harry groans in dismay at this information. Meanwhile, Ron, who is attempting to burst the pod in the bowl by putting both hands on it, standing up, and squashing it as hard as he can, says angrily, "And this is another party just for Slughorn's favorites, is it?"
"Just for the Slug Club, yes," says Hermione. Ugh, I really hate that name.
The pod flies out from under Ron's fingers and hits the greenhouse glass, rebounding onto the back of Professor Sprout's head and knocking off her old, patched hat. Harry goes to retrieve the pod (smart lad) while Ron glowers at Hermione; when he gets back, Hermione is saying, "Look, I didn't make up the name 'Slug Club' —"
"'Slug Club,'" repeats Ron with a sneer worthy of Malfoy. "It's pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don't you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug —"
"We're allowed to bring guests," says Hermione, who for some reason has turned a bright, boiling scarlet, "and I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it's that stupid then I won't bother!"
Oh no. Here we go. The end is finally nigh. I look desperately at Ariana to help me out of this situation, but she looks rather fascinated by the display.
Harry seizes the bowl that contains the pod and begins to try and open it by the noisiest and most energetic means he can think of; unfortunately, we can still hear every word of their conversation.
"You were going to ask me?" asks Ron, in a completely different voice.
"Yes," says Hermione angrily. "But obviously if you'd rather I hooked up with McLaggen . . ."
There was a pause while Harry continues to pound the resilient pod with a trowel, and Ariana and I look on in fascinated horror. Boy am I glad that I already have a girlfriend, hormones are hard enough to navigate as it is.
"No, I wouldn't," says Ron, in a very quiet voice.
Harry misses the pod, hits the bowl, and shatters it.
"Reparo," he says hastily, poking the pieces with his wand, and the bowl springs back together again. The crash, however, appears to have woken Ron and Hermione to Harry's and our presence. Hermione looks flustered and immediately starts fussing about for her copy of Flesh-Eating Trees of the World to find out the correct way to juice Snargaluff pods; Ron, on the other hand, looks sheepish but also rather pleased with himself.
"Hand that over, Harry," says Hermione hurriedly. "It says we're supposed to puncture them with something sharp. . . ."
Harry passes her the pod in the bowl; he and Ron both snap their goggles back over their eyes and the four of us dive, once more, for the stump.
I could tell that Harry was worried about Ron and Hermione. I have a feeling that he knows what's going on between the two of them just like I do. I'm not entirely sure how it will go if they get together though. If I were to break up with Ariana or she we me (a pang hits my heart), then everything would pretty much stay the same since we're not in the same friend group.
Hermione and Ron however are two integral members in my friend group, and if they got together and broke up it could tear us all apart. I remember what third year was like, and I don't care to revisit that anytime soon. Then there's always the chance that they will become like Bill and Fleur and be disgustingly insuperable. That would ruin our friendship as well. I'm not going to be the one to deny them happiness though, if it's with each other. Ariana would kill me if I did.
"Gotcha!" yells Ron, pulling a second pod from the stump just as Hermione managed to burst the first one open, so that the bowl is full of tubers wriggling like pale green worms.
The rest of the lesson passes without further mention of Slughorn's party. Although I watch my two friends more closely over the next few days, Ron and Hermione do not seem any different except that they are a little politer to each other than usual. Unfortunately there are more pressing worries that are on Harry's mind.
There is the dilemma of Quidditch. Katie Bell is still in St. Mungo's Hospital with no prospect of leaving so that leaves the team a member short missing a chaser. Harry complained to me multiple times about not having an open house tryout ever again, and I can't say that I blame him all that much, but unfortunately we need another chaser.
As amazing of a team Ginny and I make, we can't suddenly become a third player. Not to mention that our opening match against Slytherin is looming over the horizon. Harry definitely wasn't happy about what he was going to have to do. I know the reason why, it happens to do with a certain long redheaded sister of mine. I'm not totally oblivious to the puppy looks he gives her!
So that's why I'm stuck helping Harry make the right decision for the team after Transfiguration one day. Harry and I corner Dean Thomas after most of the students have filed out, although several twittering yellow birds are still zooming around the room, all of Hermione's creation; nobody else succeeded in conjuring so much as a feather from thin air.
"Are you still interested in playing Chaser?" Harry asks, sounding a little less than enthused.
"Wha — ? Yeah, of course!" says Dean excitedly. Over Dean's shoulder, Harry and I see Seamus Finnigan slamming his books into his bag, looking sour. One of the reasons why Harry would have preferred not to have to ask Dean to play was that he knew Seamus would not like it. On the other hand, he has to do what is best for the team, and Dean had outflew Seamus at the tryouts.
"Well then, you're in," I say, taking pity on Harry. "There's a practice tonight, seven o'clock."
"Right," says Dean. "Cheers, Harry, Jamie! Blimey, I can't wait to tell Ginny!"
He sprints out of the room, leaving Harry, Seamus, and I alone together, an uncomfortable moment made no easier when a bird dropping lands on Seamus's head as one of Hermione's canaries whizzes over us.
Seamus is not the only person disgruntled by the choice of Katie's substitute. There is much muttering in the common room about the fact that Harry has now chosen three of his classmates for the team. As Harry has endured much worse mutterings than this in his school career, he is not particularly bothered, but all the same, the pressure was increasing to provide a win in the upcoming match against Slytherin. I can tell because he's been bothering me with his worries since, he's still a little put off by Ron and Hermione.
Harry has no reason to regret his choice once he sees Dean fly that evening; he works well with Ginny and me. The Beaters, Peakes and Coote, are getting better all the time. The only problem is Ron.
Harry and I had known all along that Ron is an inconsistent player who suffers from nerves and a lack of confidence, and unfortunately, the looming prospect of the opening game of the season seems to have brought out all his old insecurities. After letting in half a dozen goals, most of them scored by Ginny and me, his technique becomes wilder and wilder, until he finally punches an me in the mouth when I ready for a shot.
"It was an accident, I'm sorry, Jamie, really sorry!" Ron shouts after me as I zigzag back to the ground, dripping blood everywhere. "I just —"
"Panicked," Ginny says angrily, landing next to me and examining my fat lip. "You prat, Ron, look at the state of her!"
"He punches surprisingly hard." I lisp, and Ginny grimaces at my face.
"Mum's going to kill you!" Ginny growls at Ron again, and my already pale brother turns a few shades lighter.
"I can fix that," says Harry, landing beside the two of us, pointing his wand at my mouth, and saying "Episkey." "And Ginny, don't call Ron a prat, you're not the Captain of this team —"
"Well, you seemed too busy to call him a prat and I thought someone should —"
I can tell that Harry's forcing himself not to laugh as I work my jaw around trying to get out the kinks.
"In the air, everyone, let's go. . . ."
Overall it is one of the worst practices we have had all term, though Harry seems to not feel that honesty is the best policy when we are this close to the match.
"Good work, everyone, I think we'll flatten Slytherin," he says bracingly, and the Chasers and Beaters leave the changing room looking reasonably happy with themselves, I stay behind though to help encourage Ron.
"I played like a sack of dragon dung," says Ron in a hollow voice when the door had swings shut behind Ginny.
"You don't hit like a sack of dragon dung." I say licking over my once split lip. Ron grimaces again.
"No, you didn't," says Harry firmly. "You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves."
Harry and I keep up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time we reach the second floor, Ron is looking marginally more cheerful. When Harry pushes open the tapestry to take our usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, we find ourselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who are locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together.
Okay not something that I needed to see exactly. This must be what it feels like when my siblings see me kiss Ariana. I'm going to have to remember that, and try to stay clear of them when I want to have a moment. Though we never do something like this in public…
Harry on the other hand looks like a cross between pained and furious. If I didn't know that my best friend liked Ginny before, then I certainly knew it now. Ron of course is the first one to react, and like normal when he sees one of his sisters in a more intimate moment he overreacts.
"Oi!"
Dean and Ginny break apart and look around.
"What?" says Ginny.
"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"
"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" says Ginny.
Dean is looking embarrassed. He gives Harry a shifty grin that Harry does not return.
"Er . . . c'mon, Ginny," says Dean, "let's go back to the common room. . . ."
"You go!" says Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!"
Dean leaves, looking as though he is not sorry to depart the scene.
"Right," says Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron —"
"Yeah, it is!" says Ron, just as angrily. "D'you think I want people saying my sister's a —"
"A what?" shouts Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"
"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny —" says Harry automatically, though he doesn't look like he's disagreeing.
"Oh yes he does!" she says, flaring up at Harry. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel —"
"Shut your mouth!" bellows Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.
"Guys let's just—" I try.
"Shut up Jamie, and no, I will not!" yells Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it! Even Jamie has a girlfriend!"
Ron has pulled out his wand too; Harry and I step swiftly between them.
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roars, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry and me, as we're both now standing in front of her Harry with his arms outstretched, and me with my arms around her. "Just because I don't do it in public — !"
Ginny screams with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry and me out of the way. I wince at the sound in my ears.
"Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?"
"You —"
A streak of orange light flies under Harry's left arm, misses Ginny and me by inches, and Harry pushes Ron up against the wall.
"Don't be stupid —"
"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouts Ginny, who sounds close to tears now. "And Hermione snogged Viktor Krum, Jamie snogs Ariana all the time, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"
And with that, she turns away. "Ginny!" I call trying to follow.
"Just stay away Jamie. I want to be alone!" With that my sister storms away.
This just leaves me with the sibling I'm mad with and Harry. Harry quickly lets go of Ron; the look on his face is murderous. The three of us stand there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, appears around the corner, which breaks the tension.
"C'mon," says Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reach our ears.
"Arse." I hiss as Ron passes in front of me. I swear I don't know what I'm going to do with my family. If they're not speaking to me, then they're trying to kill each other. I just can't win.
We hurry up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oi, out of the way!" Ron barks at a small girl who jumps in fright and drops a bottle of toadspawn.
I follow my friends in silence as the both stew. Whoever said that girls were the more complicated of sexes has never had two male best friends. Harry looks lost in his own world of most likely Ginny related drama, while Ron is still stewing angrily.
"D'you think Hermione did snog Krum?" Ron asks abruptly, as we approach the Fat Lady.
"What?" Harry says confusedly jerking out of his head. "Oh . . . er . . ."
The honest answer is "yes," but I, and it looks like Harry do not want to give it. However, Ron seems to gather the worst from the look on Harry's and my face.
"Dilligrout," he says darkly to the Fat Lady, and we climb through the portrait hole into the common room.
The evening is awkward and silent, so eventually I head up to bed. I stop to check in on Ginny before doing so though, so I spend quite some time lying on her bed with my sister curled up to me, letting her vent her frustrations about our brother and the stupid, moronic, double standards of society. I manage to slip in a casual inquiry about the state of Luka, but Ginny's upset silence is enough to know that our other brother is still being a prat.
The next day comes like the dawning of a new plague. Ron is not only cold-shouldering Ginny and Dean, but also treating a hurt and bewildered Hermione with an icy, sneering indifference. What is more, Ron seems to have become, overnight, as touchy and ready to lash out as the average Blast-Ended Skrewt. Harry and I spend the day attempting to keep the peace between Ron and Hermione with no success; finally, Hermione departs for bed in high dudgeon, and Ron stalks off to the boys' dormitory after swearing angrily at several frightened first years for looking at him.
I'm so stressed out by the situation that not even an hour or two of hanging out with Ariana can relax me.
To Harry's and my dismay, Ron's new aggression does not wear off over the next few days. Worse still, it coincides with an even deeper dip in his Keeping skills, which makes him still more aggressive, so that during the final Quidditch practice before Saturday's match, he fails to save every single goal the Chasers aim at him, but bellows at everybody so much that he reduces me to tears. I'm not usually a crier but these past days have been too much.
"You shut up and leave her alone!" shouts Peakes, who is about two-thirds Ron's height, though admittedly carrying a heavy bat.
"ENOUGH!" bellows Harry, who sees Ginny glowering in Ron's direction and, remembering her reputation as an accomplished caster of the Bat-Bogey Hex, soars over to intervene before things get out of hand. "Peakes, go and pack up the Bludgers. Jamie, pull yourself together, you played really well today. Ron . . ."
I fly off before I hear the rest of Harry's speech. When my feet touch the ground I have to take a few deep breaths to stop my hands from shaking. I can still feel tears running down my face, but I barely have the energy to wipe them away. I feel arms wrap around me, and I know instantly that they belong to Ginny.
"Come on, lets get you back to the castle." She says softly leading me over to the changing rooms.
"But Dean…" I say glancing around for the boy.
"He understands, unlike some boys. A few minutes without me won't kill him, besides I think you need me more right now." She says. The pair of us get changed and make our way slowly up to the castle, and once we're inside I'm shocked for a moment because we're not going to the way to the common room.
"Where are we going?" I murmur looking at my sister confusedly. Ginny just smiles at me patiently and leads me along the corridor near the kitchen. It only dawns on me why we're here a moment before the familiar blond head pops into view.
"What happened?" Ariana asks immediately. Ginny passes me over to my girlfriend, who has her arms around me in seconds. I don't bother listening to the hurried explanation of what happened. I just bury my face into Ariana's neck and let her familiar comforting vanilla scent wash over me.
I feel a squeeze on my shoulder and I know that my sister has left us. Ariana sighs, and maneuvers us down the corridor until we're sitting on a bench.
"You've been having a rough few days huh Jamie?" She says softly. I merely nod my head, too tired to even come up with a response for her. There's a rush of air against my ear, and then lips against my temple. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No… not yet." I whisper. Ariana nods her head and just tightens her grip on me, and I curl in on myself further.
"Okay then. We'll just sit here for a while." She confirms. We sit in silence for another few moments, before I relax a little more.
"Thank you."
Breakfast is the usual excitable affair next morning; the Slytherins hiss and boo loudly as every member of the Gryffindor team enters the Great Hall. I glance at the ceiling and see a clear, pale blue sky: a good omen. At least something will go right today.
The Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold, cheer as Harry, Ron, and I approach. Harry grins and waved; Ron grimaces weakly and shakes his head. I just grin bashfully, positive attention is not something that I've been used to after the last few days.
"Cheer up, Ron!" calls Lavender. "I know you'll be brilliant!"
Ron ignores her.
"Tea?" Harry asks him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"
"Anything," says Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.
A few minutes later Hermione, who has become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behavior that she has not come down to breakfast with us, pauses on her way up the table.
"How are you three feeling?" she asks tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.
"Good as any game day." I say giving her a weary smile.
"Fine," says Harry, who is concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. "There you go, Ron. Drink up."
Ron has just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione speaks sharply.
"Don't drink that, Ron!"
Harry, Ron, and I look up at her.
"Why not?" says Ron.
Hermione is now staring at Harry as though she cannot believe her eyes. I glance at Harry as well, trying to get my stressed, and slightly tired mind to see what Hermione saw.
"You just put something in that drink."
"Excuse me?" says Harry.
"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"
"I don't know what you're talking about," says Harry, stowing a little bottle hastily in his pocket. Wait is that what I think it is?
"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione says again, alarmed, but Ron picks up the glass, drains it in one gulp, and says, "Stop bossing me around, Hermione."
She looks scandalized. Bending low so that only Harry and I (since I'm seated beside him) can hear her, she hisses, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"
"Hark who's talking," he whispers back. "Confunded anyone lately?"
"Can we all just please get along?" I groan feeling the stress starting to build again.
She storms up the table away from us. Harry watches her go without regret, and I clutch my head. Just great this day is going to be just lovely. I look over at Ron, who is smacking his lips.
"I can't believe you did that." I mutter quietly.
"We have a lot riding on this game Jamie. We need everyone on the top of their game so get out of your head." Harry replies with a hard look. I wince and return back to poking my egg with my fork.
"Nearly time," says Harry blithely. The three of us get up and start for the door. Before we can leave Ariana pops up in front of us. She's dressed comfortably and her normal lion and jersey number are painted on her cheeks. A smile grows on my face.
"Hello Gryffindor, good luck out there today! I'm sure you'll all be brilliant." Ariana says. Harry and Ron sputter their thanks, and I don't hesitate with the hug she offers me. I can still hear the whispers of the people, but I could honestly care less.
I release a heavy sigh, and Ariana pulls back to look at me worriedly. "You okay?" She questions lowering her voice so that the boys won't hear.
"Yeah. Just ready for this game to be over, and for everything to go back to normal." I say. She nods her head, and with a quick kiss tells me that she'll see me after the game.
The frosty grass crunches underfoot as we stride down to the stadium.
"Pretty lucky the weather's this good, eh?" Harry asks Ron.
"Yeah," says Ron, who was pale and sick-looking.
Ginny is already wearing her Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room so I quickly duck into the other room to change into mine. When I come back in tensions are high.
"Conditions look ideal," says Ginny, ignoring Ron. "And guess what? That Slytherin Chaser Vaisey — he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play! And even better than that — Malfoy's gone off sick too!"
"What?" says Harry, wheeling around to stare at her. "He's ill? What's wrong with him?"
"Who cares?" I say plopping down onto the bench.
"No idea, but it's great for us," says Ginny brightly. "They're playing Harper instead; he's in my year and he's an idiot."
"At least something good will come of this game." I say keeping an eye on Harry. I just know that he's going crazy with this Malfoy information. He's way too obsessed with the boy.
"Fishy, isn't it?" he says in an undertone to Ron and me. "Malfoy not playing?"
"Lucky, I call it," says Ron, looking slightly more animated. "And Vaisey off too, he's their best goal scorer, I didn't fancy — hey!" he says suddenly, freezing halfway through pulling on his Keeper's gloves and staring at Harry.
"What?"
"I . . . you . . ." Ron has dropped his voice, he looks both scared and excited. "My drink . . . my pumpkin juice . . . you didn't . . . ?"
Harry raises his eyebrows, but says nothing except, "We'll be starting in about five minutes, you'd better get your boots on."
I shake my head at him. Harry really puts everything on the line for Quidditch. I mean I'm almost as obsessed as he is yet I would never do that. Sometimes Harry still manages to surprise me.
We walk out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium is solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping I can distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.
Harry steps up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who is standing ready to release the balls from the crate.
"Captains shake hands," she says, and Harry has his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle . . . three . . . two . . . one . . ."
The whistle sounds, all the players kick off hard from the frozen ground, and we are away. Like every other game I'm immediately thrust into the action by grabbing the quaffle and zipping away.
Then a voice that is jarringly different to the usual commentator's starts up.
"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. Many thought, given Ronald Weasley's patchy performance as Keeper last year, that he might be off the team, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help. . . ."
These words are greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. I chance a quick look at the commentators booth and frown. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose is standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that was once Lee Jordan's; I recognize Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom I heartily dislike.
Getting my head back into the game I fire a pass to Dean, and he catches it, only to be barreled into by a Slytherin player, and lose the quaffle.
"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and —"
My stomach turns over and I kick up more speed into my broom hoping to catch up and intercept.
"— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose. . . ."
If only he knew just how lucky Ron truly was going to be. The intensity of the game picks up and I draw in my focus and channel my current frustrations with my friends out on the Slytherins.
With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor is leading sixty points to zero, Ron having made some truly spectacular saves, some by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor's six goals, me happy with scoring the other two. I am big enough and proud enough to admit that my sister is a far better player than me. This effectively stops Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys are only there because Harry likes them, and he starts on Peakes and Coote instead.
"Of course, Coote isn't really the usual build for a Beater," says Zacharias loftily, "they've generally got a bit more muscle —"
It irks me that Zacharias is taking this job as a time to insult our entire team. The only reason he hasn't started in on me for I've been on the team for years now.
"Hit a Bludger at him!" I hear Harry call to Coote as he zooms past, but Coote, grinning broadly, chooses to aim the next Bludger at Harper instead, who is just passing Harry in the opposite direction. I grin when I hear the dull thunk that means the Bludger has found its mark.
It seems as though Gryffindor can do no wrong. Again and again we score, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Ron saves goals with apparent ease. He is actually smiling now, and when the crowd greets a particularly good save with a rousing chorus of the old favorite "Weasley Is Our King," he pretends to conduct them from on high. I roll my eyes at him, and hurriedly duck my head so that I avoid the bludger rocketing at me.
I manage to get my hands on the quaffle again and turn back down to the other side of the pitch.
"And I think Harper of Slytherin's seen the Snitch!" says Zacharias Smith through his megaphone. "Yes, he's certainly seen something Potter hasn't!"
Crap. I collide with another of the Slytherin players and we scramble for the quaffle.
"YES!" I hear Harry yell. Wheeling around, I see him hurtle back towards the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand. I quickly swoop down to follow happiness rushing through me. As the crowd realizes what happened, a great shout goes up that almost drowns the sound of the whistle that signals the end of the game.
"Ginny, where're you going?" yells Harry, who has found himself trapped in the midst of a mass midair hug with the rest of the team, but Ginny speeds right on past us until, with an almighty crash, she collides with the commentator's podium. As the crowd shrieks and laughs, the Gryffindor team lands beside the wreckage of wood under which Zacharias is feebly stirring; I hear Ginny saying blithely to an irate Professor McGonagall, "Forgot to brake, Professor, sorry."
Once on the ground I'm swept up into the arms of my girlfriend and twirled around. I let out a giggle and gladly accept the kiss that she gives me. "You won!" Ariana cries.
"We actually did it! I can't wait to celebrate!" I grin. Ariana kisses my cheek, and gives me a soft smile.
"Go on. Celebrate. We'll do something the two of us tomorrow." Ariana tells me, pushing me back slightly to my team.
"You sure?" I ask not wanting to hurt her feelings. She nods, and I rush forward to kiss her happily once more before turning back to my jubilant team.
I watch as laughing, Harry breaks free of the rest of the team and hugs Ginny, but lets go very quickly. Avoiding her gaze, he claps a cheering Ron on the back instead as, all enmity forgotten, the Gryffindor team leaves the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters.
The atmosphere in the changing room is jubilant.
"Party up in the common room, Seamus said!" yells Dean exuberantly. "C'mon, Ginny!"
Ron, Harry, and I are the last three in the changing room. We are just about to leave when Hermione enters. She is twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looks upset but determined.
"I want a word with you, Harry." She takes a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, it's illegal."
"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demands Ron.
"Do we really have to have this conversation now?" I ask (okay maybe whine). I'm finally starting to feel good again.
"What are you guys talking about?" asks Harry, turning away to hang up his robes.
"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" says Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"
"No, I didn't," says Harry, turning back to face us.
"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"
"I didn't put it in!" says Harry, grinning broadly. He slips his hand inside his jacket pocket and draws out the tiny bottle that Hermione has seen in his hand that morning. It is full of golden potion and the cork is still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looks at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."
He pockets the potion again. I shake my head in disbelief. This boy. I swear he's going to be the death of me.
"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron says, astounded. "But the weather's good . . . and Vaisey couldn't play. . . . I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"
Harry shakes his head. Ron gapes at him for a moment, then rounds on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"
"I never said you couldn't — Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!"
But Ron has already strided past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.
"Er," says Harry into the sudden silence; obviously he didn't expect his plan to backfire like this, "shall . . . shall we go up to the party, then?"
"You go!" says Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done. . . ."
And she storms out of the changing room too.
"I should go after her…" I say motioning to follow her but Harry grabs my arm.
"No. Celebrate with us. Give her some time, then go after her later. This is your day too." Harry tells me leading the two of us up to the castle.
Harry and I cannot see Hermione at the Gryffindor celebration party, which is in full swing when we arrive. Renewed cheers and clapping greets our appearance, and Harry and I are soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating us. I grin as we try to shake off the Creevey brothers, who want a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled Harry, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids (Merlin they're desperate), it is some time before we can try to find Ron. At last, I manage to rescue him from Romilda Vane, who is hinting heavily that she would like to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with him.
I think that I helped him dodge some danger with that one.
As we duck towards the drinks table, Harry walks straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.
"Looking for Ron?" she asks, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite."
We look into the corner she is indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stands Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it is hard to tell whose hands were whose.
"Merlin, I think I'm going to be sick." I groan grabbing a bottle of butterbeer and praying for some mind bleach.
"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" says Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Harry. Always fun Jamie."
She pats Harry on the arm; but then she walks off to help herself to more butterbeer. Crookshanks trots after her, his yellow eyes fixed upon Arnold.
I turn away from Ron unable to watch, he does not look like he will be surfacing soon, just as the portrait hole is closing. With a sinking feeling, I think I see a mane of bushy brown hair whipping out of sight. I glance at Harry and see that he's noticed the same thing as well.
We dart forward, pushing aside Romilda Vane again, and push open the portrait of the Fat Lady. The corridor outside seems to be deserted.
"Hermione?" I call. Harry gives me a worried look. Yeah his genius plan has definitely backfired.
We find her in the first unlocked classroom we try. She is sitting on the teacher's desk, alone except for a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she has clearly just conjured out of midair. I cannot help admiring her spellwork at a time like this.
"Oh, hello, Jamie, Harry," she says in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."
"Yeah . . . they're — er — really good. . . ." says Harry. I roll my eyes at Harry's inability to talk in uncomfortable situations.
She says, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."
"Er . . . does he?" says Harry. I sigh and make my way over to my best friend. I hop up on the desk next to her and bump her shoulder a little awkwardly.
"Don't pretend you didn't see him," says Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was — ?"
The door behind us bursts open. To my horror, Ron comes in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.
"Oh," he says, drawing up short at the sight of Harry, Hermione, and me. This is not going to end well. Poor Hermione.
"Oops!" says Lavender, and she backs out of the room, giggling. The door swings shut behind her.
There is a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione is staring at Ron, who refuses to look at her, but says with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"
Hermione slides off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continue to twitter in circles around her head.
"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she says quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."
She walks very slowly and erectly towards the door. Harry glances at Ron, who is looking relieved that nothing worse has happened. I hold my breath not believing for a second that nothing is going to happen.
"Oppugno!" comes a shriek from the doorway.
I spin around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds is speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Ron, who yelps and covers his face with his hands, but the birds attack, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they can reach.
"Gerremoffme!" Ron yells, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenches open the door and disappears through it. I think I hear a sob before it slams.
I glance at Harry and sigh. "Ain't no fury like a woman scorned." I say before shaking my head and running after my best friend, leaving Harry to deal with my ridiculously thick brother.