"Minerva,"
"I know why you're here, and the answer is still no." Snape growls something under his breath,
"I haven't received any more notes," He presses a hand to his forehead.
"Yes, you were right, Severus. Is that what you want to hear?"
"Of course not," McGonagall releases a breath and shakes her head with a dry chuckle.
"No need to lie, we both know how much you love being right."
"Not in this instance, you've got to let me bring them down again."
"We haven't had anything since..." Her voice turns very low, almost defeated.
"Dumbledore is gone, and they're threatening to take Hagrid to Azkaban," She shakes her head again, "These have to stop, the school can't run like this for long."
"Are you tired of chaperoning, Severus?"
"No more than you are," There's another dry laugh.
"Very well, lower the wards. Try to find them, and if they make contact...we'll see."
"Thank you, Headmistress," She smiles wryly.
"Don't call me that,"
He walks quickly to the dungeons almost jogging once he reaches the stone staircase. Two seconds later the wards are down, all of them.
He knows it's too late, they'd closed the line of communication. There's a chance, though. He'd hold out for that chance.
...
Lupin's far too conflicted, Snape decides. He wants to connect with the Potters but doesn't want to intrude on them. He's unsure of how to feel about the girl's House, unsure of how he should treat Potter when he looks so much like James. At this rate, it'll be months before they get anywhere. There is one good side. The detention had worked out perfectly. Lupin could follow instructions at the very least.
After writing fifty different reasons why adding bubotuber pus to a Sleeping Draft is wrong, the girl had left the classroom looking somewhat subdued.
That in itself seemed strange considering her dramatic exit the last time. When looking at the paper it seems her indignation had been transferred to ink instead of actions with the first line being,
"Because the highly esteemed and all-knowing Professor Snape did not say to."
There are three more variations of this, including, "did not compose a haiku of why a student should add bubotuber pus to a Sleeping Draft." With an example to boot.
He had to snort at that, the rest were legitimate, even going so far as to explain why wormwood had caused her potion to overflow because of the temperature difference. No matter her attitude, he can't deny that she did her research. More than seven books were pulled from his shelf to complete the assignment.
Of course, all of this is unnecessary considering she hadn't added bubotuber pus to her Sleeping Draft, but it served a purpose. At lunch, Lupin told him they'd gotten on fantastically.
It's encouraging if a little concerning. From what he's seen, she doesn't open up to just anyone, so what did the wolf do to gain her trust? He has a feeling trust isn't the right word. If she is what Merlin thinks then one night would not be enough for more than a feel out.
The door opens and students file in slowly, his eyes first land on the sloppy black hair followed by red and bushy brown. The rest of the third-years make their way in followed by Lupin himself.
His break would be ruined by the werewolf, their eyes meet, and Lupin motions towards the door. He stands, sweeping past the students. However, as he's walking through the door Lupin hisses.
"Severus, a word?" He closes the door behind him.
"What?"
"I just realized, Harry's going to be in this class."
"And how is this a problem?"
"Boggarts, and Harry's seen Voldemort." Snape clenches his left fist,
"I repeat, how is this a problem?"
"The class will see him, Severus. I mean don't you think it's a bit scary for third-years?" Snape presses a hand to his temple.
"Not that this is my job but you will do that class no kindness by trying to spare them. Especially Potter," Lupin seems to consider this.
"They're so young, surely you don't think we need to worry about Voldemort" Snape cuts him off with an angry hiss.
"Listen to me very carefully," His voice is low, to the point that Lupin leans in. "Do not ask me for help in your lesson plans again, werewolf. We are not friends. At the very most we're coworkers. Never think there is anything more or I will show you exactly how wrong you are."
His arm still stings as he's walking away and it's not until he's past the first turn that he hears the door to the staff room open and close.
...
"Lupin's just weird,"
Sarah finally decides and opens her book for another attempt at Transfiguration.
All she had to do was ask about her parents, and he was off. Apparently, her dad was some kind of God.
James was brave,
James was loyal,
James was smart,
James was strong,
James was handsome,
She has a feeling Snape doesn't hate her dad because he was perfect.
"Of course, he wouldn't want to tell me all my dad's faults,"
She tries to reason out, but Lupin's appreciation of her dad feels more like reverence. Then there was her mother.
"Lily was incredibly kind,"
"What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?"
Sarah knows why this pisses her off so much, when she'd pressed Lupin for more details they for more variations of
Lily was sweet,
Lily was beautiful,
Lily was compassionate,
Lily was gorgeous
Lily was this pure white flower who waved in the wind so the lesser mortals could see her. In other words, Sarah is nothing like her mother.
"And why the hell does he know so much about my parents anyway?"
For the fifth time, she looks down at her book attempting to make sense of the clearly English words.
"Because they were friends, you idiot!"
He must feel the need to connect with his dead friends' kids, and she needs to take advantage of that. Maybe she can start asking about Sirius Black the next time he conveniently strolls through the dungeons to find her.
"So, what's your problem?" Sarah nearly throws her book at the intruder as he sits next to her.
"What the-" Her voice cuts off as she realizes it's Malfoy, covered in bandages from his recent...mauling.
"Sorry," He says with both hands up. "Guess I should've known you're always into books,"
"It's...fine," The silence stretches for far too long, but she's determined not to break it. Malfoy opens his mouth several times, before finally speaking.
"Have any Hippogriffs attacked you?"
"No," Another silence,
She'd considered pretending they were friends to get him to back off Harry, but there's one major problem. Malfoy looks a lot like his father, and when she sees him, it's as if no time has passed at all.
"It doesn't make any sense anyway. Harry thinks we've had a falling out."
"Has McGonagall got your tongue?"
"What do you want?" Malfoy blinks and shrugs.
"I don't know, just to talk. You've been acting weird."
"So have you," Thankfully he nods with a shrug.
"Suppose so, but it's not like I'm brewing Polyjuice Potion." Her eyes must have widened for a second, but she changes it to vague curiosity.
"Polyjuice Potion?" That makes him laugh.
"What did Potter do to you over the summer?" As blandly as possible she answers.
"Waterboarding." Another laugh, harder this time.
"You could make more friends if you showed them this side of you."
"I don't need a bunch of people to follow me around, Malfoy." She crosses her legs prepared for him to get defensive. She's not disappointed.
"Yeah, you're better off alone, aren't you. That's why you wake up half the House."
"Ouch,"
A retort bubbles up, but she smothers it with what she knows will really irritate him. Sarah tosses her ponytail over her shoulder and turns her book back over so she can read about returning objects to their original state.
"Seriously, Potter!" She raises an eyebrow and turns the page. "Suppose the books are the only friends you have," She's not reading the page anymore, but using her peripheral to see Malfoy's hands. "I don't know why you bother, I heard you suck at all your classes." That stings, that stings a lot. She turns another page, making sure not to move a muscle in her face. "I was going to try and help you get on the Quidditch team! But I don't want someone this stupid on my team!"
He yells a couple more insults at her, but her mind is too hot to hear them. It's not until he's left the couch and stomped into the boy's dormitory that she closes her book slowly and looks around to see everyone staring at her. Keeping her shoulders back she walks up to Marcus Flint.
"What positions are open this year?" He rolls his eyes and looks at the ceiling.
"Keeper, and, ah, one Beater."
"Excellent."
"And what day are tryouts?"
"The eleventh, Potter. You don't actually think you're going to get on?"
"I am going to get on the team," She answers firmly. "I'll see you Saturday." Sarah grabs her book off the table and shoves it in her bag. The eleventh, that's two days. Sarah's feet carry her towards the Gryffindor Common Room. It's not the first time she's been up there, so when Percy spots her at the stairs he calls out that he'll get Harry.
"Not Harry. I need your brothers."
"Which ones?" Percy asks with an irritated glare
"Fred and George, and tell them it's important." Percy shrugs and climbs through the portrait hole. The two minutes spent pacing by the fat lady seems to go on forever. Crookshanks walks by and when she doesn't reach down to scratch him behind the ears, his yellow eyes have the most reproachful glare a cat could give.
"Go eat Scabbers you mangy-"
"Whoa, whoa!" Sarah blushes as a freckled face exits the portrait. "If anyone's going to make sure Crookshanks eats Scabbers it's going to be,"
"Me," George finishes crawling out after his brother. "Now, what's so terrible that Scabbers has to die."
"Stubbed toe?" Fred asks helpfully,
"Nah, has to be more than that. Maybe a-"
"Could you please shut up," Sarah moans, George puts a dramatic hand over his heart while Fred gives her a mocking bow. "Look, Quidditch tryouts are coming up, and I need to make the team."
"Need to?" She nods. Fred and George look to each other, communicating with small gestures. They turn back,
"Beater?"
"Yes,"
"Why should we help the Slytherins?" George asks, "I rather like being able to knock Derrick off his broom."
"And you already owe me, Potter. What's the incentive?"
"I'll," Sarah cuts herself off, trying to figure out what she can do. She could pay them, but they probably wouldn't take her money. It might even seem demeaning. As far as she's seen, money and family are the only things that can set them off, and she definitely doesn't want to offend the Weasley twins. "I could show you a secret passage," She finally offers.
"We already know all the secret passages," Fred says dismissively,
"All of them?" The challenge in her voice sparks curiosity. "I've heard there's over a hundred." George looks to Fred and he crosses his arms.
"Well, you show us the passage and we'll see if it's worth it."
"Nope,"
"No?"
"You teach me how to be a Beater first, and if I make the team I'll show you the passage."
"What if it's no good?"
"It's good," Fred frowns,
"What if we already know it?" This might be tricky, but shoving Malfoy's face into the mud is on the line.
"Guess that's a chance, you'll have to take." Again they look at each other, after two seconds of silence they both reach out a hand. Sarah crosses her arms and shakes them.
"Alright then, first thing's first." Fred marches off, she looks to George who only gestures for her to follow. All the way down the steps they go with George asking her about maneuvers and rules.
The knowledge she's gained from Harry and Ginny is sorely lacking,
"So, I can't touch the Quaffle?"
"Not with body or bat, but another person can take your bat."
"Just yank it out of my hand?"
"I mean, if they wanted to, but that would be stupid."
"Why?" George looks confused for a moment.
"Sorry, only people on your team can grab your bat." She snorts, mostly thankful that she doesn't have to worry about wrestling matches in the air. "Now, you can't aim for the Seeker unless he's going for the snitch."
"Can I throw my bat at him?" George looks to Fred, who is looking back with a quizzical frown.
"Sometimes," George finally answers.
"I should try that next game," Fred continues down the steps confidently.
"You can't swing your bat at them,"
"Yeah, but if the bat's in the air…"
"It's happened before, remember when Morgan had the bat knocked out of her hand in 58?"
"I don't even know which Morgan you're talking about," Fred says
"Harpy, anyway, it hit the Keeper and no foul was called, but in 65 Ron's crush threw his bat at the ground"
"Which crush?"
"Jameson, but it hit the Seeker's broom. That one was called."
"I remember that one! The penalty shot hit Janelle's nose."
"Well, yeah, it was his own Seeker, so they couldn't exactly score on themselves."
Sarah recognizes all the words George said, but following the subject has become difficult. She clears her throat, hoping to call them back to the present.
"Anyway, maybe if McGonagall is the ref."
"Nuh, uh! She's a snake,"
"Oh, yeah, I mean Snape."
"But definitely not if it's Hooch." She decides to just not throw the bat. They've reached the first floor now, and Fred kicks the door open to the library.
"SHH!" Madame Pince spots Fred, and her eyes bulge.
"Hello, Madame!"
"Good Evening Madame!" George calls, Sarah sheepishly smiles at her and follows the twins to a shelf.
"Take this," Fred commands solemnly, placing a book in her hand. She looks at the title.
"A Beater's Bible?"
"Yes," Fred puts a hand over the book. "Take it, and throw it in the trash." Sarah snorts.
"Seriously, I've been trying to get rid of it for ages," George comments mildly. "Somehow it keeps coming back."
"Ok, did we just come over here to try and throw a book away?"
"Nooooo," George puts another book in her arms. "Read this, tonight."
"Beating the Bludgers,"
"Yes, if you read that, you'll understand a Beater's real job."
"We quote this to Wood sometimes just to make his week."
"I don't know if that'll work with Flint," George cuts in,
"True, I don't think he can read."
"Ok, so I read this tonight,"
"Yes, then come out to the Pitch after class tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do."
...
It's an empty room, for the most part. A chair, and a picture frame. Most would call it cold with the stone walls and floor, but the enchantments cast over the dungeons keep it surprisingly mild.
The door slams open and a freckled red-headed boy and a pale girl with raven hair burst in, locked in an embrace trying to tear off each other's clothes.
"We'll get in trouble," He moans as she frantically unbuttons his trousers. "Professor McGonagall,"
"Shut up," He throws her cloak to the ground. Her shirt goes next followed by his underwear, his hands freeze as she touches him. She looks at him coyly, "Come on, now Head Boy." They give in to their teenage passion on the floor, the boy never loses his cloak.
She curls up next to him lightly kissing.
"Was that-I mean, did you?" He asks in between breaths.
"Yes," She laughs. "Did you?" He knows she's aware that he most certainly did, but appreciates that she's willing to pretend.
"Yes, Penelope"
"Good," Her hand drifts up his arm, "I needed this Percy. You have no idea how much." He leans over biting his lip,
"I'm sorry I waited so long." She looks about to laugh but shakes her head.
"I know who you are, Percy."
"But," He bites his lip, "But you were angry with me."
"I was," She acknowledges, "My life had also been threatened, and you were my knight in shining armor."
"I didn't do anything,"
"Yes, you did." Rolling over so that her head rests on his chest, she winks away the incoming tears. "You waited as any good knight would. You stayed by me." Percy seems confused,
"Then, should I-"
Penelope shuts him up with a kiss.
...
Sarah holds tightly to Harry's Nimbus 2000 as a small crowd of eight Slytherins gather on the Quidditch pitch. Marcus Flint rides up on his broom and waves his hand to silence the crowd. Sarah has Harry's broom and George's bat to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team.
Sarah swings Quigley experimentally, liking the topheavy weight.
"All right!" Marcus Flint calls out, "I want a line starting here." He points at the ground, Sarah lets the huge boys jostle around her and settles at the end of the line. There are no other girls there, the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team sit in the stands watching lazily. Sarah spots Draco's blond hair, he has his feet up on the chair ahead of him with his bandages discarded and laughs with one of the burly Chasers. The first boy kicks off and flies around the pitch to start the Keeper tryouts.
Yesterday had been tough, extremely tough. The twins had grabbed an overly enthusiastic Harry to practice with her. She'd spent the first hour trying to hit him as he stayed in one spot.
At first, she thought it would be easy enough, but while Harry might be staying in the same place the bludgers are not. She's not standing sideways with her knees bent to swing her bat around and hit the ball into center field. It's coming at her chest, and she's on a broom.
The first half-hour may have been spent falling off and getting back on Fred's Cleansweep. Maneuvering at the last minute and actually hitting the bludger somewhat near Harry worked itself out. Fred went out next, swerving lazily around and making faces at her.
It didn't help when Harry had stifled a laugh. She got him that time, but it only made Fred ten times worse. They took a break after she turned a chair into twigs.
While they were on the ground, George went into the best tactics to actually get on the team.
"You've got a couple things against you. The first being that you're a girl." Sarah blinked,
"I'm a girl,"
"If you haven't noticed the entire Slytherins team is made up of boys. My guess is they've got some kind of prejudice there."
"Bastards," Fred said darkly.
"The second, is you're small." She looks at her arms and shrugs. "Which isn't consistent with Slytherins or Beaters."
"Malfoy's small,"
"Malfoy's a Seeker, Harry says. "He's supposed to be small. But Beaters, well," He gestures to Fred and George with their long arms and stocky frame.
"I think he's trying to insinuate something Georgie."
"Anyway, the other is the most obvious, you've never played Quidditch. The only second-year I've seen Flint take is Malfoy, and that's because of his Daddy." Both Harry and Fred nod angrily at this. "So to get past all of this you're going to have to do something flashy,"
"Flashy?"
"Make sure they see you, make sure they remember you. Something that says if we don't put this person on our team we're a bunch of idiots."
"And what's that?"
"Fred, you ready?"
"You ready, Potter?" Sarah jerks out of her head.
"Um, yeah," He winces.
"Flint won't like that,"
"What?"
"Yeah, he likes it better if you tell the truth." Sarah sizes up the boy with a quirked eyebrow. Tall, really tall, and lanky. Dark hair, tied up in a bun.
"Sure,"
"I'm serious, I heard you in the Common Room." Shaking her head, she shoulders Harry's broom. "He's already seen your confidence, now you've got to show you're coachable."
"What're you trying out for?" She asks flippantly, he glances to the bat in his hand and she tilts her head with a smile. "If I were you, I'd focus on my own game." Instead of scowling as she expected, he shrugs and looks back at the players in the sky.
The boy flying takes a hit to the arm and howls as he lands. Madame Hooch is already there to inspect the injury. Flint walks up to them for a moment then leaves with a haughty shake of the head.
"You're sure this is what you want, Sarah?" She'd looked at Harry as he handed off his Nimbus. "They're not exactly a good team,"
"They beat everyone else, Harry."
"That's not what I mean," He sighed. "They cheat, you know. And they're ruthless. Are those the people you want to be around?"
"I want to play," Sarah said stubbornly, not wanting him to know her real motivation.
"Alright, I guess you're good, then."
"Of course she is," Fred walked over with George. "We taught her,"
"And she's got luck," George tossed his bat over and she caught it. "No other Slytherins are allowed to touch Quigley,"
"They won't," Fred made to pat her on the head, but she dodged it while wacking his hand away.
"Alright. I think I'm ready," Harry nodded as George gave her training robes a once over.
"You'll want to tighten that strap." He touched his left shoulder, Sarah felt the strap and pulled it, securing her robe.
"Ok, anything more Sensei"
"What's a Sensei?"
"Umm, muggle thing." Sarah looked to Harry for help, and he shrugged.
"Like a karate master."
"What's karate?" Fred asked,
"You try and catch them up, I'm going to tryouts."
"You're sure you don't want us to come," Sarah smiled sympathetically and shook her head.
"Alright Potter, you're up," Marcus yells, breaking Sarah's concentration. She mounts Harry's broom and kicks off the ground. Five targets materialize and Sarah takes a deep breath, she hears the bludger before she sees it and dodges to the right making several boys snigger.
The next Bludger comes from her right, in the perfect position for her to hit. She swings aiming for the closest target. The bludger hits the middle of the bat and demolishes the wood.
Sarah turns quickly and spots the next one. She switches the bat to her left hand and swerves at the last minute, just tapping the bludger so it turns towards the next target.
The first ones heading back towards her and she streaks off diving sharply right in front of a target so that it's demolished by the bludger.
There are two targets left, but the bludger had suddenly become interested in Marcus Flint. Sarah leans forward and speeds towards him. She curves slightly, like she's curving around second base, hitting the bludger so hard that it smashes both targets one after the other.
The bludgers start to come back, but two Slytherins are already rushing in to grab them.
"No wait, I didn't do something flashy!"
But there's no more time. She touches down on the ground and joins the Slytherin boys in waiting.
Marcus flies over to the stands and lands next to the Quidditch team. They converge and start whispering. The team steps off and flies down to the Pitch with Marcus in the lead.
"Alright Miles Bletchley, you're our new Keeper. Lucian Bole, you're the new Beater. Everyone else, try again next year."
I have discovered something! Writing from the youngest sibling's point of view is soooooo annoying if you're the oldest sibling. I hope you liked this Quidditch and Weasley filled chapter.
Thank you for reading the crazy stuff coming out of my head,
I do not own Harry Potter.