OLIVIA:
The Great Hall was seemingly even more crowded than normal, the torrential rain forcing everyone inside. I was sitting surrounded by friends, the Quidditch team more specifically. "Bad news," Angelina huffed as she threw herself down next to George, "No practice tonight. We can't do anything in this weather."
"Good," said Harry quietly, when she told him, "because we've found somewhere to have our first Defense meeting. Tonight, eight o'clock, seventh floor opposite that tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy being clubbed by those trolls."
We all stared at him, confused. "We have?" I asked.
He looked up from his sausage and mash. "Yeah," he nodded, "Just be there. You'll see."
I looked over at Fred and George, who shrugged, not wanting to question him. Fred simply pushed his plate away, "Alright, time to get back to testing."
George followed in suit, standing up from the table. Instinctively, I did too. "See you guys later," I said, waving to the others.
And that we did. At eight o'clock sharp, the twins, Lee and I walked up to the seventh floor to find a large polished door with a big brass handle that I had never seen before. I looked at Fred nervously, unsure of whether or not we should go in. He reached forward and grabbed the handle, pulling the door open. The open room, which flickered with torches like those that illuminated the dungeons eight floors below, was filled with people. The walls were lined with wooden bookcases, and instead of chairs there were large silk cushions on the floor. A set of shelves at the far end of the room carried a range of instruments such as Sneakoscopes, Secrecy Sensors, and a large, cracked Foe-Glass.
"Well," said Harry as we all sat down on the cushions that covered the floor. "This is the place we've found for practices, and you've—er —obviously found it okay."
"It's fantastic!" said Cho, and several people murmured their agreement.
"It's bizarre," said Fred, frowning around at it. "We once hid from Filch in here, remember, George? But it was just a broom cupboard then. . . ."
"Hey, Harry, what's this stuff?" asked Dean from the rear of the room, indicating the Sneakoscopes and the Foe-Glass.
"Dark Detectors," Harry said, stepping between the cushions to reach them. "Basically they all show when Dark wizards or enemies are around, but you don't want to rely on them too much, they can be fooled."
"Well, I've been thinking about the sort of stuff we ought to do first and — er —" He noticed Hermione's hand that was high up in the air. "What, Hermione?"
"I think we ought to elect a leader," Hermione said.
"Harry's leader," Cho said at once, looking at Hermione as though she were angry that someone else would even be considered.
"Yes, but I think we ought to vote on it properly," Hermione said, unperturbed. "It makes it formal and it gives him authority. So, everyone who thinks Harry ought to be our leader?"
Everybody put up their hands, even Zacharias Smith, though he did it very halfheartedly.
"Er—right, thanks," said Harry, who was noticeably blushing. "And— what, Hermione?"
"I also think we ought to have a name," she said brightly, her hand still in the air. "It would promote a feeling of team spirit and unity, don't you think?"
"Can we be the Anti-Umbridge League?" Angelina said hopefully. I smiled, nodding. I liked that idea.
"Or the Ministry of Magic Are Morons Group?" Fred suggested.
I let out a slight laugh, "Your dad works for the Ministry." He didn't say anything more, simply shrugging it off.
"I was thinking," Hermione said, frowning at Fred, "more of a name that didn't tell everyone what we were up to, so we can refer to it safely outside meetings."
"The Defense Association?" Cho said. "The D.A. for short, so nobody knows what we're talking about?"
"Yeah, the D.A.'s good," Ginny said. "Only let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?" There was a good deal of appreciative murmuring and laughter at this.
"All in favor of the D.A.?" said Hermione bossily, kneeling up on her cushion to count.
Fred didn't raise his hand. "I still prefer the Ministry of Magic are Morons," he muttered next to me.
"That's a majority—motion passed!" Hermione said, ignoring Fred. She pinned the piece of paper with all of our names on it on the wall and wrote DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY across the top in large letters.
"Right," Harry, said when she had sat down again, "Next order of business." His eyes fell on me. "You guys all know Olivia. She is an incredibly talented witch, and with so many of us, we thought it would be good to have her help me out with training."
I smiled at him, glad that he had accepted my offer. But my happiness was soon interrupted by the sound of Zacharias Smith's voice.
"Wait," He huffed, "We're learning defense magic from a Riddle?"
Both of the Weasley twins attempted to lunge for him, but I grabbed onto Fred, Lee clinging onto George's arm. "She happens to be one of the most powerful witches at Hogwarts," Harry said defiantly.
"Because of You-Know-Who," Zacharias sneered.
Angelina crossed her arms, glaring at him. "You just don't like her because she's a better a chaser than you are," She scoffed.
"Let me at him," Fred growled. Despite the angered look that he shot me, I didn't let go. "I can't let him treat you like that."
I shook my head, "It's okay. Everyone treats me like that."
There was an odd silence before Harry took a deep breath. "Shall we get practicing then?" He said, trying to defuse the tension. "I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful —"
"Oh please," said Zacharias, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"
"I've used it against him," said Harry quietly. "It saved my life last June." Smith opened his mouth stupidly. The rest of the room was very quiet. "But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Harry said. Smith did not move. Nor did anybody else.
"Okay," said Harry, "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice. Olivia, you and I can walk around and help them master it." I nodded, standing up and dusting off my robes. Everybody else got to their feet at once and divided up. Predictably, Neville was left partnerless.
"You can practice with me," Harry told him, "Olivia, you can watch that end of the room," He suggested, nodding his head on the opposite end of the group. I smiled softly and made my way over there.
"Right — on the count of three, then — one, two, three —"
The room was suddenly full of shouts of "Expelliarmus!" Wands flew in all directions, missed spells hit books on shelves and sent them flying into the air. I had to dodge Michael Corner's wand, which Ginny had managed to send flying in my direction. I picked it up from where it clattered onto the floor, handing it back to him.
"Nice job, Ginny," I nodded. "Michael, you're a bit slow. You're thinking too much. Don't worry about jinxing her, she's tough." I smiled at Ginny, who giggled.
Glancing around the room, I was glad that Harry had suggested that they practice the basics first; there was a lot of shoddy spellwork going on. Many people were not succeeding in disarming their opponents at all, but merely causing them to jump backward a few paces or wince as the feeble spell whooshed over them.
Harry seemed to have handed Neville off to practice with Ron and Hermione, making his way towards the center of the room. We were both eyeing the same person: Zacharias. Every time he opened his mouth to disarm Anthony Goldstein, his own wand would fly out of his hand, yet Anthony did not seem to be making a sound. I met Harry's eyes and suppressed a laugh. It didn't take long to find the culprits. Fred and George were several feet from Smith and taking it in turns to point their wands at his back.
"Sorry, Harry," said George hastily, when Harry caught his eye. "Couldn't resist."
He didn't say anything though, simply returning his attention to the rest of the group. I continued to move about the room, stopping here and there to make suggestions. Slowly, the general performance began to improve. I kept an eye on Zacharias. Fred and George had stopped their tricks, but he still failed to cast the spell with very much accuracy. "Don't flourish your wand so much," I instructed from behind him.
He scoffed, "I think I've got it, thanks."
I raised my eyebrows, walking to the other side of the pair and facing him. "Well, clearly you haven't. You have yet to successfully disarm Anthony."
"I don't see you disarming anyone either," he taunted.
Without another word, I pulled out my wand from where I had tucked it in the waist of my skirt. With a sharp flick of my wrist, Zacharias's wand flew from his grasp and clattered to the ground several feet away. With another flick, it rocketed itself into my hand.
Somehow, Zacharias still had something to complain about. "That's not fair. I wasn't ready."
"You'll never be ready," I snapped, thrusting his wand back at him. He tore it from my hand and swiftly turned his back on me. I bit back another remark, walking away.
Rather than indulging myself in bickering with someone so arrogant, I approached Fred and George. When they saw me walking in their direction, they ceased practicing, lowering their wands. "I'm going to kill that guy," Fred said lowly.
"It's okay, really," I said, waving a dismissive hand.
"Angelina's right. He's just jealous," George smirked.
"Hey, Harry," Hermione called from the other end of the room, "have you checked the time?"
Harry glanced down at his watch and a look of shock crossed his face. Immediately, he reached for the whistle that hung around his neck. "Well, that was pretty good," said Harry, "but we've overrun, we'd better leave it here. Same time, same place next week?"
"Sooner!" said Dean Thomas eagerly and many people nodded in agreement.
Angelina, however, said quickly, "The Quidditch season's about to start, we need team practices too!"
"Let's say next Wednesday night, then," said Harry, "and we can decide on additional meetings then. Come on, we'd better get going."
And that set the general tone for all of our meetings to come. We met every week, though it had proven nearly impossible to fix a regular night as we had to accommodate three separate Quidditch teams' practices, which were often rearranged depending on the weather conditions. Though it was possibly for the best that they were kept unpredictable. If anyone was watching us, it would be hard to make out a pattern. I tried to avoid Zacharias as much as possible, as whenever I tried to help him, he made some sort of snide remark. That was fine by me though. The less I had to deal with him, the better. I thought that he would be the worst of my troubles, but the first Quidditch match of the season proved me wrong.
I followed Angelina and Katie down to the pitch, my usual pre-match nerves already starting to fester. As usual, the first match of the year was Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. This match was always the most intense of the whole year, the centuries long rivalry taking over the whole school for weeks before. It was noticeably more fierce than I had every seen before, likely because we didn't have Quidditch at all the previous year. I wasn't only nervous about that though. I knew that Ron was a decent Quidditch player, but in our recent practices, he seemed to cripple under any amount of pressure. God knows how he would respond to a pitch filled with hundreds of spectators. I had already caught a glimpse at the Slytherin's WEASLEY IS OUR KING pins, which already wasn't a good sign. If I knew anything about the Slytherin team, they definitely had more planned.
And then there was the fact that we would be playing against Draco. We hadn't had a real conversation since the alley in Hogsmead, but we had progressed to slight smiles when we passed in the corridors. Something about playing against him made a strange apprehension stir inside of me, but I tried my best to push it down.
Angelina took to talking our ears off while we changed into our robes, going on about strategy and the final Quidditch lineup. "Montague has put some blokes called Crabbe and Goyle as Beaters. I don't know much about them," She huffed as she did up her boots.
"Aren't they Malfoy's goons?" Katie asked.
It took me a moment to realize that they were both looking at me. "What?" I asked, accidentally sounding a bit mean.
"You dated the guy. Surely you know his sidekicks," Angelina said.
I raised an eyebrow. "We went on one date because he was dared to. But I do know of them. They fit the same mould of Montague's typical boneheads. I wouldn't worry too much about them."
Just at that moment, Fred and George walked into the changing room. I gave Fred a smile, thankful that he wasn't there to hear us talking about Draco. With a small peck on the lips, he made his way to change himself, trying not to distract from the other's mental preparation for the match.
"Nice robes," George said with a wink, pointing out my brand new ones that now read "RIDDLE" on the back in big letters. I smiled bigger, pleased that he had noticed.
Angelina kept talking. I did my best to drown her out as I went through my usual pre-match thoughts and focus on the match to come, but I couldn't manage to get Draco's face out of my mind. But I couldn't let it distract me from the match.
"It's time," said Angelina in a hushed voice, pulling me out of my thoughts. "C'mon everyone . . . good luck."
The team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. The Slytherin team was already on the pitch, waiting for us. I tried to drown out the loud cheers and whistles, which rang faintly in my ears. Don't look at him, my mind screamed as I tried to keep my eyes on the other members of the Slytherin team. But Draco Malfoy was hard to miss. He stood off to one side, slightly separated from the rest of his team, the sun gleaming against his white-blond head. He was staring down at the grass, his eyes glossy. I took a deep breath and pulled my stare away from him.
"Captains shake hands," ordered the umpire, Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. I could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. "Mount your brooms."
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.
The balls were released and all fourteen players pushed off the ground, shooting off in every direction.
Angelina was the first to the Quaffle. I lay flat against my broomstick to speed up next to her, but Montague was hot on my heels. I rose above her as she cut across the pitch, dodging Warrington. A Bludger flew from Crabbe's direction and hit her square in the back, causing the Quaffle to fly out of her grasp.
Montague caught it and darted back down the pitch. I trailed behind him, catching the Quaffle as George hit him in the head with a Bludger.
"And Olivia Riddle of Gryffindor catches the Quaffle!" I heard Lee Jordan shout. A chill ran through me as I heard my full name echo through the stadium, giving me an extra boost of confidence as I rocketed towards the goal posts, dodging Bludger and other players. The path ahead of me was entirely unobstructed, with the exception of Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper. I pulled my arm back and threw the ball, not wasting a second to see if he blocked it, but turned around to focus on the next play. From the sounds of it, Bletchley had saved the goal, a collective sigh filling the stands.
"Dammit," I muttered to myself under my breath. I knew that I should have passed back to Angelina, but my pride and adrenaline got the better of me. Bletchley threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Angelina and Katie. As I watched him draw nearer to Ron at our goalposts, I could hear singing coming from the spectators.
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead —"
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring.
"— so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them, straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron . . ."
"Come on Ron!" I groaned in annoyance.
The Slytherins sang even louder:
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN . . .
"— and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch —" cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it.
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING . . .
I soared back across the pitch behind Katie, who passed back to me when she was surrounded by a swarm of green. This time, I ducked low, swooping below all of the other players to find a patch of unguarded territory. I threw the ball again, this time watching it soar through the left hoop. Cheers rang out from the Gryffindor side.
We went back and forth like that for what seemed like forever, Slytherin eventually gaining a substantial lead against us as Ron failed to block a single score. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Draco circling the pitch in search of the snitch. I did my best to block him out, but that was nearly impossible as he streaked out of the sky behind Harry, diving for the snitch.
I forced my eyes away, training them on Angelina who made her way across the pitch and scored. Another cheer rang out, followed by a much louder one as Harry grasped the snitch. A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forward off his broom; luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch. An uproar broke out in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, and a thud.
"Are you alright?" I shouted, rushing to his aid.
" 'Course I am," said Harry grimly, taking my hand and allowing me to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming toward one of the Slytherin players above us.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," I said angrily. "He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won!" I pulled him into a celebratory hug, the rest of our team swarming around us. Amidst the cheers and celebration, however, I could hear Malfoy who had landed close by; white-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was born in a bin. . . . Did you like my lyrics, Potter?" Harry turned away to join the rest of the team, but I stared at Draco in confusion. This was not him.
Draco wasn't looking at Harry though. Instead, his eyes flashed up towards the stands. I followed his gaze and saw two other white haired spectators. His parents.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called after Harry, "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly — we wanted to sing about his mother, see," I shot him an ugly look, but he wasn't paying me any attention. Anger had started to boil inside of me at the insults towards the Weasleys, who were almost as important to me as they were to their own children. "— we couldn't fit in useless loser either — for his father, you know —"
Fred and George seemed to tune in to what Malfoy was on about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand they stiffened, looking around at Draco. "Leave it," I said at once as if speaking to a dog, grabbing Fred by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost—"
"— but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" said Malfoy, who was still glancing at the stands nervously. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay —"
"Draco," I growled, struggling to keep Fred from lunging for him. "Cut it out."
He met my eyes. He was smiling, but I could see in his face that it was forced. "Or perhaps," he kept on, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"
I saw a flash of red come from behind me, both Harry and George in pursuit of Draco, who attempted to run. He was too late, four fists flying at him from every angle. "Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO!" I heard myself scream, but it was no use. Draco was already pinned against the grass, blood streaming from his face. He wasn't putting up much of a fight, seemingly just trying to get the other boys off of him.
Everything was happening at once. I could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around us as Katie, Angelina, and I fought against Fred's strength. I would have reached for my wand, but I couldn't let go of Fred in fear that he too would attack Draco.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" Someone shouted, sending both Gryffindor boys flying backwards. "What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch as Harry leapt to his feet again; it was she who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx. She was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other, her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Draco was left curled on the ground, moaning in pain. George was sporting a swollen lip and Harry had what looked like the early stages of a black eye.
"Fred, stop," I barked as he continued to struggle against us. He stopped fighting, but his eyes remained trained on the green lump on the ground. I felt a strange urge to rush to Draco's side, but I stopped myself. Looking at him now caused concoction of worry and disgust to fill my being. This was not the Draco that I knew, but it was he who had made the crown pins and written the song about Ron. "Where is Ron?" I asked, realizing that he was not on the pitch. Nobody answered.
"You four get going before you make matters worse," Madame Hooch ordered to us as she knelt beside Draco. I turned away towards the changing rooms, tugging Fred along behind me.
The Great Hall was filled with a new charged energy at dinner, completely different from the competitive spirit that had rung around breakfast time. I sat beside Fred and the rest of the team in utter silence, no one saying anything about what had just happened. The Slytherin table, however, was filled with chatter. Montague was laughing about how Crabbe had gotten off with lines for hitting Harry with the Bludger, while several others had taken to mocking Ron (who was still nowhere to be found). Draco wasn't there either, likely in the hospital wing having his nose mended.
"They're awful," Angelina snarled, "just awful."
Fred was staring at them, his eyes more intense than I had every seen. "You should have let me at them," he muttered angrily. He had been sat like this since we got here, not touching the plate of food in front of him.
"No," I said harshly, "That would only have made things worse."
He finally looked at me for the first time since the match. "How could it be worse?" He asked.
"You could be sat in McGonagall's office with George and Harry," I said, trying to stay calm.
"I don't care. Malfoy deserved what he got. And he should have gotten worse."
I shook my head but didn't say anything more to him. Clearly he wasn't in the mood for hearing reason. "I'm going to go do some damage control," I said to the others, standing up and abandoning my uneaten dinner. No one said anything as I walked away, headed for the hospital wing.
DRACO:
"What the hell was that?" I heard someone yell as I sat on a bed in the hospital wing, still in my Quidditch things. I didn't lift my eyes from the floor, already knowing who it was. I was already disgusted with myself and looking at her would only make it worse.
"I'm sorry," I muttered quietly, my busted lip aching as I spoke.
"Sorry?" She huffed, "Draco, what got into you out there?"
I took a deep breath, blinking back hot tears. The anger in her voice was worse than I had ever heard before. "I'm sorry," I repeated, not knowing what else to say, "I shouldn't have done that."
She didn't say anything.
"My parents," I struggled to say, "They were at the match. I couldn't let them see me be completely humiliated."
She took a deep breath, sitting down on the bed across from me. "So you decided that it would be okay to completely humiliate everyone else?"
"I didn't mean for it to go that far," I spat, looking up to meet her eyes for the first time. "Once I started, I couldn't stop. I lost control of myself, Olivia. I don't know why it happens, but it's like something takes over my mind and I can't control it."
She stared at me sadly. As much as I hated disappointing my parents, disappointing her was worse. The mournful look on her face broke my heart. That was something I never got from either of my parents. They only got angry with me. But her anger from before had dissolved. "Are you okay?" She asked softly.
I nodded feebly. "They broke my nose, and a couple ribs, but I deserved it. I shouldn't have done that."
Her face softened even more, giving me the same look of pity that she had a couple months ago when I told her about my dad using that curse on me. "Are your parents upset?"
I shrugged, causing pain to shoot up my side. "They just left. They said that it was disgraceful to see me brought down by a Weasley and Potter. They said I should have fought back." I said they, but really it had only been my father. My mother didn't say anything to me at all.
"I'm glad that you didn't," She said with a weak smile. That smile was enough to make my whole body relax. "I know you didn't mean it. I'm sorry that the boys attacked you like that."
I shook my head, not wanting her pity, "Thanks for holding your boyfriend back. I'd be as good as dead if he'd gotten ahold of me."
She giggled slightly. I, however, put my head in my hands in shame. This girl was so kind and so understanding that I could speak ill of everyone she loved and she would still forgive me. How did I allow myself to let her down?
I felt a gentle kiss on my cheek. "Get better, Draco. Madame Pomfrey will take good care of you."
She stood up and I heard her footsteps trailing out of the room. When I finally lifted my head, she was disappearing around the corner.