"Pour it! Pour it!"

"What do you think I'm doing, Rose?!"

"Well, excuse me, but this was your idea –"

"Um, hey guys? Not that I don't enjoy this pointless argument, but we need to hurry the hell up if we're going to do this."

McLaggen began tossing and turning, feeling something sticky on his arm. Nah, it was probably just his imagination. He fell back into his dream, and it was such a good one –

Wait – no, this wasn't a dream. There really was some strange, sticky sap on his arm…in fact, it was covering his entire body! He shook awake and looked at the damage. It was a strange pinkish color, almost glowing in the dark. And standing beside his bed was none other than…Scorpius Malfoy, the Potter kid, and Weasley.

"Really, syrup? That's the best you can do?" McLaggen scoffed. "Wonder where you got that idea from."

"Oh contraire, Mr. McLaggen," warned Scorpius, smirking. "This is tree sap. And no ordinary tree sap – this is Bulgarian East Pine syrup. Our dear friend Hagrid deemed this a worthy cause and was kind enough to lend us some."

Albus stepped in. "Now, I doubt you know this, given your incredibly small brain capacity, but do you know what's the number one feeder on Bulgarian East Pine syrup?"

McLaggen's eyes landed on the large bag in Rose's hands. Something inside was desperately squirming to get out.

"Cornish pixies," answered Rose. "Enjoy."

His eyes widened.

He tried to brush the syrup off, but it was too late. Rose had let the bag loose, and hundreds of purple pixies came swarming out of it. They began attacking the syrup, lifting McLaggen off the ground some five feet above his bed.

He began panicking. "They – they aren't going to eat me, are they?!"

Scorpius only laughed. "Nah, they'll stop once the syrup's all gone, but hopefully, this will teach you a lesson."

Looking from Rose to Albus and back to McLaggen, he continued, "Slytherin or not, you never mess with a Malfoy."

The three of them filed out of the room, feeling the adrenalines rush of revenge. McLaggen continued to try to swat at the pixies, but that only made them more determined to get the syrup off of him. The other boys in the room were now awake and noticed that they, too, had syrup covering them. The pixies began to spread out and lift each one of them.

Right before he shut the door, Scorpius grinned and asked them, "Pretty nifty stuff, ain't it?"

McLaggen, suspended in the air, sent Malfoy a killing glare at the echo of his own words. But there was nothing he could do….for now. Scorpius shut the door behind him, turned to the ginger beside him and mentioned, "How was that for 'revenge business'?"

0o0o0

Rose Weasley had never seen anything more beautiful in her life.

Six hoops stood towering above her head, like pillars of heaven, and the grass was so green that it was almost unearthly. She had been to a few Quidditch matches over the years, even one at the Quidditch World Cup, but never had she stepped onto a field like this one.

Today, the first years were going to have their first flying lesson. Matilda had spent all day bragging to Rose on her "technique" that she had, of course, learned from her father who was the best Quidditch player in the whole, entire world and she knew every single one of the Chudley Cannons…

Fed up with her, Rose turned and asked sharply, "Did your father take on and destroy one of the darkest wizards of all time?"

That shut her up. And as mean-spirited as it was, Rose was proud that she had won.

Their first instruction was to hold their hand over it and command, "Up!" Immediately, Rose's shot into her hand. However, this was not from natural talent, but years of practice. To add to her pride, she noticed that it had taken Matilda two or three tries to achieve what she had done in one.

Matilda sent her a glare from across the field, but Rose just smiled at her, deflecting it.

Beside her, she saw that Al was having a great deal of trouble getting his up. It levitated for a few moments, wobbled back and forth, and then fell to the ground.

"Stupid school brooms," he muttered, though both he and Rose knew that it was less to blame on the ancient brooms than it was on Al's devastating lack of skill.

After multiple tries, Scorpius finally got his up. He always claimed to be more of a Quidditch "watcher" than a "player", but any time he did play, he was always decent. Rose had begged him to come with her to try-outs so he could show-up McLaggen while she took care of Matilda Wood.

It didn't seem too appealing at first, but after envisioning the look on McLaggen's face if he beat him, Scorpius was sold.

Their next task was to mount the broom, hover for a few moments, then come back down. Like before, Rose accomplished it in one try…as did Matilda. Madame Hootch strolled up and down the lines of boys and girls, pausing only to say, "Splendid job, ladies," to the two of them.

"So," Matilda Wood said conversationally as they waited for further instructions, "still going for Keeper then, Weasley?"

Rose nodded. "Of course. You?"

"Why wouldn't I? Shame you're going to Slughorn's party, though. You're going to be a mess after try-outs – that is, if you don't make it," she answered haughtily, picking at her broom.

Rose just rolled her eyes. "You're going to Slughorn's party?"

Scoffing, Matilda replied, "My father's a pro Quidditch player. Slughorn would have to be crazy not to invite me. But I'm sure with you, he had to…sort of a pity-invitation. I mean, not to be rude, but what did your father do again? Follow Harry Potter around like a lost puppy? "

This hit close to home. Rose tucked a strand of flaming red hair behind her ear, turned to face Matilda, and blatantly said, "You're a lot of talk for someone so short. Compensating for something?"

Before Matilda could answer, Madame Hootch began speaking, a Quaffle in her hands, "Now that you've all mastered the basics, we're going to play a game. This is sort of a mini-low-ground-version of Quidditch – now, no one hovers above ten feet or you're out of Hogwarts before you can say, 'Quidditch'. Got it?"

The crowd murmured in agreement. Al shot Rose a look, knowing how tempted she would be to push the limit. All she could do was roll her eyes.

"Now," she continued, "I'm going to call you up in pairs…how about…Miss Weasley and Miss Wood?"

Of course, thought Rose. They grabbed their brooms and made their way to the center of the field. Madame Hootch came between them.

"I'm going to toss the Quaffle in the air, and the first person to get it to their side of the field –" She waved her wand and two goals appeared. "– wins. Mount your brooms!"

Doing so, Matilda faced her rival, a fierce look on her face.

"Have fun out there, Weasley. Try not to break a nail."

"You, too, Wood. Watch out for night trolls."

With the loud shrill of her whistle, Madame Hootch tossed the Quaffle into the air. Immediately, Rose shoved Wood out of the way and grabbed hold of it, making her way to the other side of the field. As she was almost halfway, Wood caught up and shoved her hard in the shoulder, knocking it out of her hands. The two raised side-to-side across the field, until Rose whipped the back of her broom around and threw the Quaffle into the air. Both of them soared upwards, both clawing to grab the ball.

"TEN FEET!" Madame Hootch called. "I said, TEN FEET!"

Neither of them cared. They spiraled upwards, up and up and up, until both were nearly surrounded by cloud. The ball, reaching its net velocity, began to fall towards the earth like a meteor

And at the last moment, Rose snatched the ball and made a nose-dive toward her side of the field. Multiple times, Matilda tried to worm her way in, but Rose had seen this tactic before. It was a good one, but an old one, and one her father and uncle had prepared her for. At the last moment, she threw it into the goal.

Everyone cheered below, until Rose felt something hard slam into her back. She toppled down to the grass, Matilda on top of her with an infuriated expression on her face. A searing pain suddenly shot up around her shoulder blade.

"Next time," Matilda warned so only she could hear, beads of sweat falling off of her face, "it'll be something far worse."

Matilda immediately flopped onto her back next to Rose and began to moan, clutching her wrist. Madame Hootch ran over to the two girls.

"Oh dear – this is the third year that's happened – what hurts?"

"My wrist!" Matilda cried. "She broke my wrist!"

Through her real pain, Rose protested, "I – I didn't! She – she hit my shoulder!"

Madame Hootch felt her shoulder and upper back. "Oh, it's not just that, I'm afraid. Looks like a fractured collarbone as well. Potter! Take her to the Hospital Wing!"

"B-But I have Qu-Quidditch try-outs!"

"Hopefully Madame Pomfrey can fix you up in time," Madame Hootch said, helping Rose to her feet.

Matilda sat up, continuing to whine. "And what about my injury?!"

Madame Hootch only sighed, standing up. "I'm afraid Madame Pomfrey doesn't have an antidote for pride, my dear."

Albus came running to his cousin and put his arm around her waist, keeping her upright. Soon after him came Scorpius, who looked both worried and exhilarated.

"That was amazing! You should've seen the look on her face when – are you okay?" he realized, his eyes landing on her. He turned to Albus. "Is she okay?"

"DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M OKAY?"

"Oh, yeah. She's fine," Al answered, grunting as he half-carried her to the castle. "God, you're heavy!"

Scorpius laughed. "Only because you weigh, like, eighty pounds."

"Ninety!" Al protested, laughing.

"GUYS. INJURED GIRL. HOSPITAL WING. WALK."

Scorpius stepped back. "Okay, okay! Is she always this uptight?"

Al explained, "I call it her 'Quidditch Angst'. When something goes wrong on the field, she gets cranky. Really cranky."

"BROKEN COLLARBONE. POPPED SHOULDER."

"That, too," he added.

Scorpius looked confusedly at the injured girl. "But you won," he pointed out.

Al just shook his head. "Doesn't matter. She's still angry at Matilda – you just better pray that Madame Pomfrey sedates her while she sets the bones back in place."

"SHUT UP."

0o0o0

"We plan on starting questioning tomorrow – that's why we've held back all mail-order issues of the Daily Prophet. We don't want the spy to read about it and know we're onto him. Though of course, he or she would've probably heard about it already…"

"Very good. And the Veritaserum?"

"Small dosages each. All within regulations. The last thing we want is to harm those who are innocent."

"What about the boy, Malfoy?"

"We're keeping a close eye on him, Kingsley, but there's not much we can do without being too suspicious. He's a bright child – he'd know something was wrong."

"You're not worried?"

"He's got good friends that are taking care of him. I doubt they'd allow anything to happen to him."

"But they're only children, Minerva. Things can happen."

"Yes, of course, and that's why we are taking precautions. But there's going to come a point where the children will find out about it anyway, and when they do, I hope they pull through. For his sake."

"The poor child…facing Hogwarts with such a bad family reputation."

"Yes. But if these children are anything like their parents, they'll pull through for him no matter what. You'll see."

0o0o0

A few hours later, Rose was sitting upright in a hospital bed. Madame Pomfrey had fixed her collarbone up and popped her shoulder back in place, which didn't hurt as much as they anticipated. According to Madame Pomfrey, she should be up on her feet in the next few hours around bedtime.

Rose leaned back and tried to rest, like she had been instructed to do, and all the while thinking about that psychopath Matilda Wood.

She was going to beat her at try-outs, alright. Or die trying.

Suddenly, the doors flew open and none other than James Potter came walking into the room.

"James?" Rose asked. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

The tall third year shoved his hands into his pockets. "Came to see you, of course! My dear cousin! My own flesh-and-blood!"

Rose raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, no, but I just had to come see you. The whole school's talking about it! How you took down Matilda Wood! The Matilda Wood! Oliver Wood's daughter!"

"God, she's such a prat," Rose muttered.

"Who cares! Either way, Rose, everyone's talking about how you caught that Quaffle, even though it was way out of Hootch's boundaries, but even more so, how you pummeled the spawn of one of the best Quidditch players on earth!" James explained enthusiastically. "And ever since then, I can't tell you how many people came running up to me, asking if you were going to be on the team and what position. They're scared you're going to take their places!"

"Well – I'm just going for Keeper, so they don't have to worry. Henry Pitchcloff graduated last year, so I –"

"Forget about that – you're going to be Seeker."

Rose's jaw dropped. Confusion flooded in.

"W-What do you mean, Seeker?" she stuttered. "You're Seeker!"

James brushed it off. "Like you said at the Platform, I can't even remember the last time I caught a snitch. I just took the position because A – no one else could do it, and B – I'm Harry Potter's son, so everyone else took a gigantic step back."

She was still at a loss for words. "B-But what are you going to do now?"

"Maybe I'll be a Beater. I've always wanted to have an excuse to wack the crap out of Finnigan," he laughed. "That kid drives me insane…"

"So…?"

James rolled his eyes. "So, are you up for it or not?"

Rose was quiet for a moment. No – she wasn't supposed to be a Seeker. She was a Keeper. That was what her dad was, what she had always trained for, what she played in Little League. And now, after catching a high-speed Quaffle, she was supposed to completely change?

"But I'm a Keeper," she said quietly.

James smirked and shook his head. "That's not what I've heard."

Rose took a shaky breath. "…fine, yes. I'll take it."

He began enthusiastically clapping for her, slowing leaving the room. "Encore, encore! Rose Weasley, my dearest cousin and compadre, the greatest Gryffindor Seeker of all time –!"

"You can go now, James," Rose groaned, but also trying not to smile.

Of course, he wouldn't listen. As he left the room, he was still chanting, "It's a bird! It's a plane! BY GOD, IT'S SOME INSANE GINGER ON A BROOM –!"