CHAPTER 25: GROUND RULES
"Will you two jackasses get up?"
O'Bannon folded his arms across his chest and shook his head as Fred and George remained on their knees, bowing before him in the Gryffindor common room.
"But we must show proper respect . . ." said Fred.
". . . To the man who actually convinced Draco Malfoy to play a Muggle game," George finished.
After a couple more bows, the twins jumped to their feet and slapped him on the shoulders.
"Brilliant!" Fred declared. "Simply brilliant!"
Several of the Gryffindors around them nodded and voiced their approval.
"Thanks," O'Bannon said. "But we gotta give credit to Harry, Ron and Hermione. They're the ones who gave me the skinny on Malfoy so I knew which of his buttons to push."
"It was no problem," said Harry, who stood a few feet away. "Happy to help."
"Same here," Ron chimed in. "So long as you beat Malfoy and his wanker friends."
"Oh there's no doubt we'll beat 'em." A confident smile spread across Seamus' face.
"So how do we go about it?" Angelina asked, looking at O'Bannon.
"What'd you mean?"
"Well, I'm sure we'll have to have actual practices, not just pick-up games. And we'll have to get more people to round out our team. I imagine we'll have to have tryouts, like in Quidditch."
"Yeah, when'll those be?"
Several Gryffindors turned to Ron. He returned their gazes. "What? Maybe . . . Maybe I'd like to try out."
"You, Ronald?" Hermione shot him a stunned look.
"Yes, me." He responded with an edge to his voice. "I play Keeper when we're at home for the summer. Dean and Seamus told me they have a position like that in hockey."
"There'll likely be students from other Houses who'll want to play, too," Dean said. "I know plenty of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who'd like to take Slytherin down a peg or two."
"So when will you have tryouts?" Ron asked again.
O'Bannon looked at him, then glanced around. Everyone's eyes were on him.
"Um, I don't know yet. Heck, I just got Malfoy to agree to this."
"Don't worry, Jimmy," said Lee. "No rush. This match isn't until June."
"Perhaps, but the sooner we get started the better." Again, Angelina looked at him.
"Um, yeah. Yeah, you're right. Don't worry, I'll come up with a schedule soon, and we'll put together one hell of a team."
"I know you will, Jimmy." Fred grinned. "We have faith in you."
"Yeah!" Dean blurted. "We're with you."
"Just tell us what needs to be done, and we'll do it," Angelina assured him.
"Um, thanks, guys."
O'Bannon excused himself to his room to do his homework. But he found it hard to concentrate on his History of Magic essay on the Goblin Rebellion of 1749 – How many friggin' Goblin Rebellions were there? Instead, he thought back to what his friends had said. How they had faith in him. That they were behind him. That they'd do whatever he told them.
That's when it dawned on him. They had just made him their leader.
That shouldn't have surprised him. Who knew more about hockey at Hogwarts than he did? Back at Salem, he'd been an alternate captain on the Blazenrowe Hall Hockey Team, and had quarterbacked one of the penalty kill units.
But those things were vastly different to being a captain, which in this case equated to a player/coach. He'd have to pick who made the team and who got cut. He'd have to organize practices. He'd have to motivate the players. He'd have to discipline them if they did something he didn't like. What if his friends resented him for that? What if he failed to prepare them properly and Slytherin won?
Was he ready to take on the responsibility that came with being a leader?
You better be, O'Bannon, 'cause no one else at this school is qualified for the job.
XXXXX
The following Monday, O'Bannon was on his way to History of Magic class when Ginny ran up to him in the corridor.
"Jimmy. Professor Dumbledore wanted me to give you this."
She handed him a folded piece of parchment. He thanked her and opened it.
Dear Jimmy,
Please come to my office after the final bell today. I wish to discuss your hockey game in more detail.
Yours truly,
Albus Dumbledore
P.S. Cockroach Cluster
His brow furrowed at the last two words. He turned to Ginny. "Cockroach Cluster? What does that have to do with anything?"
"I imagine that's the password to get into Professor Dumbledore's office."
As was typical for a Monday, classes seemed to drag on. Especially History of Magic, with Professor Binns droning on in that monotone voice of his. O'Bannon passed the time jotting down ideas for what to cover in the first few practices.
When the last class of the day ended, he headed up to Dumbledore's office. Unfortunately, getting there proved an adventure, as his route took him to one of those Hogwarts staircases that had a mind of its own. This one led straight into a brick wall instead of the fourth floor every other Monday. It took a few minutes to find another staircase that took him to the floor where Dumbledore's office was located. He halted in front of a melancholy-looking gargoyle on a stone perch.
"Um, Cockroach Cluster?"
The gargoyle jumped to the side. A gap suddenly opened in the wall.
O'Bannon turned to the gargoyle, who just stared at him.
Shrugging, he walked through the gap and up a spiral staircase until he came to a polished oak door with a brass knocker. He grabbed it and banged the door twice.
"Enter," Dumbledore called from the other side.
O'Bannon went inside. He stood still for a moment, his eyes sweeping the circular office, taking in the décor. Moving portraits of the school's former headmasters and headmistresses adorned the walls. A brightly-colored bird he recognized as a phoenix sat on a perch next to a claw-footed desk. Behind it was a shelf where the tattered Sorting Hat sat. A glass case next to it contained a ruby-encrusted sword.
"Ah, Mister O'Bannon," Dumbledore said. "You're here. Good. Now we can begin."
He looked to his left. His eyes widened in surprise. Professor Dumbledore wasn't the only one in the office.
The heads of all the Hogwarts Houses – Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape – flanked him, as did Professor Burbage and the heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, Madam Maxime and Professor Karkaroff.
And sitting in one of the high-backed chairs in front of them was none other than Draco Malfoy.
"Have a seat." Dumbledore indicated to the chair next to Malfoy, who scowled at him.
O'Bannon pretended to ignore him and sat down.
"Now, I hope you don't mind the fact we're a bit crowded in here," Dumbledore said. "But seeing as all four of our Houses and our two guest schools have students involved in this hockey sport, I felt it only fitting that they all attend this meeting."
"A waste of time." Karkaroff looked like he wanted to spit. "All this does is take away attention from what is really important. The Tri-Wizard Tournament."
"I think not, my dear Igor," Dumbledore said. "There are only four students actually involved in the tournament."
"There should only be three," Karkaroff grumbled.
"Nonetheless, the other students here at Hogwarts need something to occupy their free time since there is no Quidditch season. If playing this sport also gives them a greater appreciation of Muggle culture, so much the better."
"I wholeheartedly agree, Professor." Burbage made no attempt to contain her excitement. "Mister O'Bannon here has already shown a handful of witches and wizards how enjoyable a sport without magical elements can be. Now here is the opportunity to get even more students involved."
"I do not object to zees game," said Madam Maxime. "One of my students is already involved in it, and 'as told me she enjoys it very much."
That brought a smile to O'Bannon's face as he thought of Mireet.
"And may I point out, Igor," Dumbledore said. "One of the purposes of the Tri-Wizard Tournament is to promote cooperation and friendship between our three schools. Surely this hockey game will help in doing that."
Karkaroff scowled at Dumbledore, then at O'Bannon. He didn't flinch from the older man's glare.
"There is another concern, Headmaster," Snape said. "O'Bannon and his friends have been playing this sport of theirs for almost two months. They already have a distinct advantage over Mister Malfoy and whoever he recruits to his team. I question whether such a competition between the two would be fair."
O'Bannon clenched his teeth, fighting back the urge to laugh. Like Snape gave a damn about being fair, considering the way he favored Slytherin and treated students from the other Houses like crap.
An arrogant smile formed on Malfoy's lips. Dread and anger boiled inside O'Bannon. Was Ferret Boy about to back out of this game, with Snape's help?
"The game isn't until June Eighth, Severus. I think that should give Mister Malfoy and his friends more than enough time to adequately prepare."
Malfoy's smile disappeared, replaced by a sneer aimed at Headmaster Dumbledore. Snape's lip also curled as he glowered at O'Bannon, who did his best not to look satisfied.
"Now, let us talk about forming your teams," Dumbledore said.
"Another matter I take issue with, Headmaster," Snape spoke up. "Mister O'Bannon's little club is comprised of students from three of our four Houses and both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Do we allow him to have this large pool of students to choose from while Mister Malfoy is limited to only those in Slytherin House?"
Dumbledore stood silent for a few moments. "A fair point. Very well. Mister O'Bannon and Mister Malfoy can choose any students they want for their teams, regardless of House or school."
Malfoy snorted. "Like I really want to be on a team with a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff."
Both McGonagall's and Sprout's eyes narrowed at him.
O'Bannon shrugged. "Hey, I'm cool with this. You don't wanna take advantage of it, it ain't my problem."
Then again, it probably would come down to Slytherin versus everyone else. He couldn't imagine anyone from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw wanting to play for Malfoy. The same with the Beauxbatons contingent. The Durmstrangs? Maybe some of them would be willing.
"When do you plan on holding tryouts for your teams?" Burbage asked.
"I guess as soon as possible. My club usually meets on Thursday, so maybe I'll start then."
"If I may." Flitwick raised his tiny hand. "The Holidays are coming up, as well as the Yule Ball. The students, I'm sure, will have their minds on those things more than sport. Plus many of our younger students will be leaving for Christmas break. Some of them might want to give this hockey thing a go. Perhaps it would be wise to wait until the start of next term before you two start forming your teams."
O'Bannon groaned to himself. He wanted get started on this right away. But mulling over Flitwick's words, he had to admit the little Charms teacher had a point. He'd rather have people on the ice focused on hockey instead of what they'd get for Christmas and who they would ask to the Yule Ball.
And how to ask out Mireet without hurting Katie's feeling.
See, you're thinking about the Yule Ball instead of hockey.
"Sounds like a good idea to me."
Malfoy grunted and nodded.
"And in order to keep Mister O'Bannon and his friends from gaining an unfair advantage," Snape said. "He and his friends should be barred from their hockey club gatherings until the start of next term."
"What?" He shot a scathing look at Snape before turning to Dumbledore. "But those are, like, pick-up games. For fun. They're not like a real practice."
Dumbledore slowly bobbed his head from side-to-side in thought. "I'm afraid I must agree with Professor Snape. As you said yourself, you want this game to remain fair."
O'Bannon frowned. Damn his sense of fair play coming back to haunt him. For a brief moment, he wondered if the Sorting Hat had messed up not putting him in Hufflepuff.
Sensing defeat, he settled back in his chair and nodded. "Okay."
"We'll also need to set up a proper reekfor this game," Burbage said.
"Um, that's 'rink,' Professor."
"Oh yes. Rink. Thank you. Yes, we must set up a proper rink, and arrange for proper hockey apparel."
Dumbledore looked to O'Bannon. "I'm sure you can provide us with the specifications, uniforms and equipment necessary for this."
"Yeah. I can probably get my parents to send over some books on hockey, then I can give 'em to Malfoy so he can learn about it."
"That is another concern I have."
O'Bannon closed his eyes and clenched his teeth to keep from yelling at Snape. He seemed determined to be an asshole throughout this whole meeting.
"Mister O'Bannon said he would teach Mister Malfoy and his team the basics of hockey out of 'fairness.'" The word dripped off Snape's tongue like venom. "What guarantee do we have that he will not hold back critical information, or deliberately sabotage Mister Malfoy's efforts?"
"Oh, you gotta be kidding me. I said I'd teach 'em hockey the best I can, and that's what I'll do."
Snape narrowed his beady eyes at him. "Given the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin, you'll forgive me if I don't take you at your word."
"I'm sure there's something we can do to ease your mind about Mister O'Bannon's sincerity," Sprout said.
"No, but there's something I can do to. There will be no doubt that he will answer any questions Mister Malfoy and his team members ask about hockey truthfully with a drop of veritaserum."
"What!" Sprout and Burbage exclaimed.
"Professor Snape, you cannot be serious," said a stunned McGonagall.
O'Bannon nearly crushed his armrests as he glared at Snape. He didn't like anyone questioning his honor, especially this greasy-haired bastard.
You put that drop in my mouth and I'll spit it back in your face.
"I think that is a bit extreme, Severus," Dumbledore said. "We're talking about a game between students, not an interrogation. The veritaserum is unnecessary. I will take Mister O'Bannon's word that he will honestly teach the Slytherins about hockey."
Now O'Bannon wore a triumphant smile, while sour looks formed on the faces of Snape and Malfoy.
"But who shall oversee zis game?" Madam Maxime asked.
"Our flying instructor, Madam Hooch, also serves as a Quidditch referee," Dumbledore pointed out. "We can bring her up to speed on this sport and have her officiate it."
"I have another suggestion, Headmaster."
Dumbledore nodded to Professor Burbage, who continued, "Mister O'Bannon informed me that hockey is very popular on The Continent, most especially in Scandinavia and Eastern Europe. Surely there are some Muggle-borns, or their relatives, who are more familiar with the sport than any of us. They could serve as our referees."
"An excellent idea!" Dumbledore's face lit up. "Perhaps you can get in touch with the Department of International Magical Cooperation and the Muggle Liaison Office to assist you in that search."
Burbage smiled wide. O'Bannon nodded. He'd have more confidence in guys with practical experience in the game than someone who only used a book to learn about it.
"There is something else about this hockey game that troubles me."
A flicker of surprise went through O'Bannon as the statement came from Professor McGonagall.
"Professor Burbage informs me that fighting is an accepted part of this sport."
"What?" Madam Maxime's eyes widened. "You will allow ze students to curse one another during zis game?"
"No, that's not what I mean. I mean, from what Professor Burbage tells me, the players can use their fists to attack one another."
Madam Maxime gasped. "How barbaric."
A concerned look fell over Sprout's face. "We can't allow our students to attack one another."
"But fighting's part of the game," O'Bannon protested.
"Not in this game," McGonagall stated. "There is no room for violence in sport."
"Yeah, like a Quidditch match is some kind of tea party."
McGonagall shot him a stern look. O'Bannon feared he may he crossed the line with that flippant comment. He spoke before McGonagall could dock him any House points. "C'mon, look at all the injuries you get from an average Quidditch match. Broke bones, concussions. Merlin's beard, the Beaters can actually smack a big, hard ball at other players and try to knock 'em off their brooms. A fist is gonna do a lot less damage than a Bludger."
McGonagall, Sprout and Madam Maxime didn't look convinced.
"Okay, here's how fighting works in hockey. Play gets a little chippy, or you need to fire up your team, you drop the gloves with someone and go. You wrestle, you throw a few punches, and when you go down to the ice the refs break it up. Then you sit in the penalty box for five minutes, usually with nothing worse than a split lip. And most times, everyone calms downafter a fight."
"And what if someone decides to use one of those sticks to hit another student?" asked McGonagall.
"Then they're gone. You do not use a stick to hit another player. Anyone who does that is looking at a major suspension, and if you're a pro, you're gonna get hit with a mega-fine."
"If we are to give our world a proper show of this hockey, I think we must include all its aspects," Dumbledore said. "The fighting will be allowed, so long as it does not get out of hand."
"If we get some good refs for this game, they'll make sure it doesn't." O'Bannon managed not to do a fist pump. Given Professor McGonagall's disagreeable look, he didn't think celebrating the fact they could fight was a good idea.
"Well." Dumbledore clasped his hands together. "I think we've covered just about everything we can at this moment. If anyone has any other ideas, or concerns, regarding this game, please don't hesitate to bring them to me. Now, let us proceed to the Great Hall for dinner. I have it on good authority there will be a scrumptious Clementine and Lemon Posset for pudding."
Everyone headed for the door, with O'Bannon and Malfoy trailing the professors and heads. He glanced over his shoulder to find Malfoy glaring at him as they descended the steps. When they reached the bottom, he turned around to find Ferret Boy still staring daggers at him.
"You just gonna glare at me or do you have something to say?"
Malfoy sneered as he stepped closer to O'Bannon. The professors and heads were already halfway down the hall. He rose on the balls of his feet, making himself even taller, probably trying to intimidate him. Not that it worked.
"You may have Dumbledore fooled, but not me. I don't trust you one bit when it comes to teaching us hockey. I'll have my eye on you, and if you do anything to sabotage us, you'll regret it."
O'Bannon stifled a laugh. "Wow, I'm impressed."
"About what?"
"That you can actually talk tough without your two goons Crabbe and Goyle around. Maybe you do have a set."
Malfoy's face turned scarlet. He shook with fury.
"Look, I give you my word as a wizard and a Gryffindor -"
"Like your word as a Gryffindor means anything to me."
"As I was saying, I give you my word that I will teach you and all your slithery friends about hockey the best I can. I actually do want your team to have a fighting chance to try and beat my team, that way you can show Daddy that you're not a pathetic failure."
Malfoy exploded. "Shut up! I'm not a failure! I'll show you! I don't care what it takes, I'm going to beat you and the rest of those Mudbloods and blood traitors you call friends! And when I do, I'm going to laugh in your damn face, before I spit in it!"
Malfoy stomped off. O'Bannon just rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning. He knew that Malfoy would use that anger to motivate him and the rest of his team. On June 8th, the Slytherins would unleash that anger on the ice and come at his team with everything they had.
That would make their victory even sweeter.
TO BE CONTINUED