Minerva looked to the stands at the start of the game as she hovered in the air. She could spot where her brothers sat together in the crowd quite easily because of the blue and bronze in the sea of scarlet and gold.

Robert Jr., had been sorted into Ravenclaw. She wished he'd been sorted into Gryffindor merely so she could keep closer tabs on him. But the Lord no doubt knew what He was doing having them sorted in different houses because Malcolm and Robert Jr. together constantly would have been a disaster. They had a tendency to get in more trouble together than they would apart, and she wouldn't always be here to look after them beyond this year.

It was a game against Slytherin and the one that would win the cup. It wouldn't be her first time if they won the championship, but it would be her last opportunity.

She was ever watchful for the flash of gold that would end the game. She spotted it before the other seeker, and she bobbed and weaved through the balls and players, her eyes ever on the prize. She almost had it in her grasp before the brawny, Slytherin beaters rammed into her.

She barely had time to realize she was plummeting, thanks to a snapped broom, before she hit the ground hard. The resulting pain was intense. It was the first time she had ever crashed on her broom in Quidditch or anywhere else. She could feel the pain every time she breathed in.

Before she had time to recover from her shock, she was being lifted onto a stretcher. She didn't realize she was still holding on tightly to the broken school broom until they pried it from her hands.

She heard the announcer as she was being carried away to the infirmary, "A foul on Slytherin."

The hospital wing smelled of rubbing alcohol and freshly brewed potions. She was poked and prodded in the typical medical fashion by Madame Pavlac until she presented her findings. "You have a concussion and three broken ribs. You're very lucky it wasn't worse."

She didn't feel lucky. She felt like getting even.

"Don't look so glum. I can fix the ribs right away." She pulled put a wand of hawthorn and said, "Brackium Emendo."

The pain in her side was gone immediately. "Then I can play right away." She started to throw off the covers, but Madame Pavlac tucked them back into place.

"The concussion will be a little longer as there's nothing magically or medically I can do for it but give it time."

"How long will the concussion last?"

"I'd guess no more than two days, and you cannot fall asleep for at least twelve hours," she warned, shaking her wand at her like it was a pointer.

That didn't seem like a pressing issue at the moment. She was too angry to be sleepy. "Got it."

She left her, and Minerva wondered for a moment if she could sneak out the window, so she could at least see the end of the game, but she'd probably get caught and her head did hurt.

Madame Pavlac came back after a little while. "I have three visitors who very much want to see you. You feeling up to it?"

She didn't need to ask to know who they were. "Send them in."

Malcolm, Robert Jr., and Pomona walked in a few moments later.

"That was just awful," Pomona fussed. "Those snakes wouldn't know fair play if it came and bit them in the you-know-what."

She appreciated the empathy and loyalty, but only one thing was on her mind at the moment. "Did we win?" she asked.

"No, but we should have," Malcolm said with the same fiery brimstone in his voice that her father used when preaching. "They knew we were going to win the cup and that blatching was their only chance. They could have killed you. It should have meant they forfeited the game, but all they got was a bloody penalty. Morgan's a passable substitute seeker, but he hasn't had enough broom time to compete against Slytherin in the final game. They knew that, the filthy buggers."

She was too disappointed at losing to correct his language. "Well, there's always next year. I just won't be here to see it."

"Don't worry Minerva," Robert Jr. said. "I'm going to be a beater next year, and I'll make sure I give them a taste of their own medicine."

She was so protective of her little brothers. It was a nice feeling to have the tables turned with them being protective of her. "I want you to play fair. I just want to see them crushed with defeat."

Pomona made the dreary room seem more cheerful with her friendly chatter, taking all their minds off the incident. She only left when a class forced her to leave. Her brothers got special permission to miss their classes, so they could help keep her awake. The rapscallions stayed by her bedside, keeping her entertained by showing her what they'd learned and telling her stories of their shenanigans. She didn't know how she'd gotten through so many years at Hogwarts without them.