Chapter 10 – The Seasons Beginning
"And you're sure they're going to come?"
Scott and Ethan were crouched down, concealed behind the large marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw in the common room. At present, Scott was peeking out from behind her pedestal, scanning for movement.
"I'm certain," Ethan asserted firmly.
"But 'Hogwarts; A History' never mentions them, not once!" Scott insisted.
"Believe me, they're here," Ethan assured him. "Cyril nearly scared them half to death the other night when they were trying to tidy up. I think he thought they were food."
The sun hadn't yet shone its rays through the arched glass of the common room, though it would be hard to tell if it had – ever since November had begun, a near-constant downpour had assailed the castle. Even now, the distinct pattern of rain drops trickled down the dark windows that hadn't been covered with silk curtains.
"But surely they'd have arrived by now?"
"They might've been held up," Ethan suggested. "Peeves has been in a right state since Halloween. Didn't like being shown up by those Gryffindor twins."
Apparently, the aforementioned twins had flooded a third floor bathroom, which had nearly set back the archaeological excavation that had begun in a nearby corridor. Just as Scott was stewing on the foolish actions of the Gryffindors, he heard a distinct pop. He quickly shook Ethan, and pointed.
Standing in the middle of the common room was a tiny creature with large, bat-like ears. Its eyes were large and round, a bright hazel in colour. It wore what seemed to be a white table cloth around its torso, and nothing else. The creature clicked its fingers and the torches and fireplace suddenly ignited. A new series of pops began emerging from about the common room, and half a dozen more creatures appeared from thin air. They looked much the same as the first, though with very subtle differences. They all set about doing tasks; cleaning and sweeping. They adjusted cushions, wiped windows, brushed dust of the mantle, and tidied the room to make it look perfectly pristine.
Scott suddenly stood and emerged from behind the statue. The creatures all looked up in fright as he appeared, stopping their movements immediately.
"Don't worry," Scott said gently. "I just wanted to say hello to you all. I'm Scott."
"And I'm Ethan," his bespectacled friend said, emerging too. "You probably remember me and Cyril from Tuesday night."
The creatures nodded nervously, glancing at the frog-monkey perched on Ethan's shoulder. These diminutive beings were called House-Elves, and were a race of creatures that had long been enslaved by wizardkind. Scott had only seen a few elves before, mostly when he went overseas with his mother. She, of course, entirely refused to have a house elf anywhere near their house. Her issue wasn't with the elves themselves, however, but with the concept of owning a servile sapient that was forced to do another's being. Scott had heard long rants at the dinner table about her latest disagreement with the now-ex-Minister for Magic on the subject, and from the things she said, he was often surprised she'd maintained her job for as long as she had.
"We's is not minding students out of bed, sirs!" piped the first elf to arrive, which Scott guessed was a girl. "Though, if you is not minding, maybe keep the monster away?" she added fretfully.
"Right," Ethan said apologetically, grabbing Cyril and stuffing him down his bright turquoise pyjama shirt.
"So, do you clean and cook for all the students?" Scott asked curiously.
The elves all nodded eagerly. "Yes, sir!" the girl elf squeaked. "And deliver presents for birthdays and Christmas! And bring luggage from the train! And serve at special occasions! And lots more!"
"Do any of you know why you aren't mentioned in any history texts?" he asked hopefully.
They looked confused. The elf girl spoke again. "I don't know if any of we's has read anything like you say. We house elfs have served Hogwarts for centuries, though!" she announced proudly.
"Strange," Scott pondered. "What's your name, by the way?"
"Bonnie is honoured that Scott Carter has asked our name, sir!" she cried happily, bowing low.
Vaguely remembering a few things his mother had mentioned about house elves' eagerness to please, he suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable. He also wasn't entirely sure how the elf knew his last name when he'd never told her, but he shrugged it off.
"Well, Bonnie, it's our friend's birthday today, and we were hoping to surprise them with a few things," he said to her. "Would you happen to have some presents for an Alexis Wroxton?"
"Yes, sir!" she exclaimed. "Would sirs like to surprise their friend with presents?"
"Yes, please, Bonnie. And if you wouldn't mind, I think it'd be nice if Alex got some breakfast in bed. Could you do some pancakes, with a full choice of toppings?"
"Sir is so kind to his friend!" the elf cried rapturously. "Of course we's can get a nice breakfast ready!" She snapped her fingers again, and a small collection of wrapped packages appeared on the floor in front of her.
"Thanks, Bonnie," Ethan said, scooping up the presents.
Bonnie then vanished on the spot, no doubt to begin the meal they'd asked for. Ethan handed Scott the presents that he'd picked up.
"I'll just go up and grab my presents. You wait here till Bonnie gets back with that breakfast."
He zoomed off up the stairs to his own dorm, while Scott waited with the house elves who were still working away. A few were scrubbing Ravenclaw's statue, humming quietly as they did so. Eventually, Ethan returned, his own present in his arms. At that precise moment, Bonnie returned, balancing two trays.
"Pumpkin juice and pancakes, sirs!" she announced.
"Thanks, Bonnie!" Scott grinned, passing the presents back into Ethan's arms and taking the trays from the elf.
She bowed, and disappeared again, along with the other elves. They headed back up the stairs, and stopped just outside Dorm 12.
"I'll poke my head in first, if you're worried," Scott teased.
"That might be best, actually," Ethan mumbled awkwardly.
He needn't have worried, however, as Alex was still fast asleep, and not in any compromising situations – or at least, none embarrassing.
"All clear," Scott whispered as he crept inside.
Ethan followed just as quietly, tip-toeing over to Alex's bed, the curtains of which were blocking their friend from view. Scott slowly pulled the blue material back, revealing a blond figure – definitely masculine today – covered in blankets. He mouthed the words 'On three' and began to count down silently. When he reached the third number they both let belt Alex's wake-up call.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
"Wuzzgoinon?" came Alex's sleepy voice.
"C'mon, get up, lazy bones! You've got presents and breakfast!" Scott bellowed.
Alex sat up slowly, blinking blearily at them. "What time is it?" he asked, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Time for presents!" Ethan answered.
"What's that?" Alex asked, pointing at the trays in Scott's arms.
"Breakfast in bed," Scott informed him.
"Wow, thanks!" Alex said, all tiredness suddenly forgotten.
"All Ethan's idea," Scott grinned. "We got your presents, too."
Ethan placed Alex's gifts at the foot of his bed, while Scott handed the trays to Alex. They both had wiry metal legs that let them sit above chest height. Alex poured himself a pumpkin juice and set about happily eating his pancakes.
Ethan was examining the wrapped packages. "Your parents didn't really get you that many presents, huh?" he observed.
Alex's face went bright red, and Scott smacked Ethan's arm furiously. Ethan had the unfortunate habit of saying tactless things without realising. Evidently Ethan realised that he'd said something callous, and quickly stuttered a follow-up. "Er, w-which is all the better, I'm sure. I m-mean, I definitely wouldn't want too many presents, myself."
Scott didn't think he was helping matters much, but Alex was smiling indulgently at Ethan. "Well, Christmas is coming up," he said. "I bet they'll have plenty for me around then."
Leaping at the opportunity to veer the subject away, Scott spoke up. "It's annoying having your birthday so close to Christmas, eh?" he chuckled. "I'm in January. Means things get a bit split up."
After Alex had finished eating, he set about opening his presents. He opened the ones from his family first. His aunt and uncle had given him a twenty pound note and a card wishing him well, and his parents had sent plenty of new boys' and girls' clothes as well as a Rubik's Cube. They'd attached a card, too, which Alex smiled as he read. Next he started on their presents. Ethan had gotten him a Remembrall to remind him about overdue assignments ("You don't want McGonagall to give you a detention, do you?") and a magical jigsaw puzzle that whenever it was completed shifted into a new puzzle. Scott had gotten him a book called 'Quidditch through the Ages', which he'd promised was exceptionally interesting, as well as a bulk package of Chocolate Frogs ("You really need to get your card collection up to scratch.").
Eventually, hints of the sun began to creep through the window panes, and a knocking met their ears.
"Is everybody decent?" Cho Chang's voice asked from the other side of the door.
Ethan instinctively tensed up, and Scott snorted.
"You're good!" Alex called.
The door opened and Cho and the other girls stepped in. They all chorused a "Happy birthday!" and leaped forward to hug Alex. When the girls proceeded to hand their own gifts over, Scott stood and stretched theatrically.
"Well, I'd love to stay and chat," he announced, "but I think I'll go for a good workout, now." He squeezed past the girls, winking at them. Alex rolled his eyes as a few girls giggled. "Oh, and one more thing," he said to Alex. "Make sure you bring an umbrella later. Wouldn't want a bit of rain to ruin your first Quidditch match."
He left, Ethan's voice carrying as he headed down the spiral stairs. "Uh," he heard him stammer, "I'll go, er, do some working out- I, um, m-mean working- uh, as well."
Before eleven o'clock, the entire school began to crowd toward the Quidditch Pitch on the grounds. The ominous grey clouds seemed to spell doom for the Gryffindor team's chances, the odds of which had most betting on a Slytherin win. Scott had had Eddie Carmichael attempt to lure him into a wager with the prospect of Gryffindor winning.
"Look at it this way, Carter," he'd reasoned. "Gryffindor's got four new players this year, so no-one's got a clue what they're like on the field. But two of 'em are brothers of the Captain, who's supposed to be a damn good Seeker. I think the odds actually stack up to mean that the Lions could bring out a surprise win over Slytherin today. So how about it, eh?"
Scott had respectfully refused. He didn't carry money around with him these days if he could help it, still sore over the true identities of Wizarding coins. He found a row of seats along the top of the stands, where the Ravenclaw first-years all sat. They awaited the commentator's voice, which soon came from the tall tower-like pedestal off-side from the pitch.
"Welcome to the first match of this season's Hogwarts Inter-House Quidditch Championship!" roared a voice from the pedestal. Scott could just make out a dreadlocked boy sitting alone. "My name is Lee Jordan, and I will be commentating on this match. First off in the season, we have Slytherin versus Gryffindor!"
A great tumult of cheers went up on all sides, mostly from the relevant houses.
"Here comes the Slytherin team! We have Flint, Newman, Inglewood, Bakshi, McCleary, Killian, and Keene! They've been lucky in previous years, but hopefully that streak of theirs breaks today!"
The Slytherins in the stands booed his proclamation loudly as the Slytherin team made their way to the centre of the pitch. They were all very tall - even the youngest of them, Flint, was remarkably large. There was only one girl on the team, Inglewood.
"Everyone welcome the Gryffindor team! Olivier, Mumford, Johnson, Wood, Weasley, Weasley, and Weasley!" The scarlet-robed group of seven gathered opposite the green. Among their number were three stocky redheads, one taller than the other two. "Unlike the Slytherins, Charlie Weasley's gotten some new blood this year," Lee Jordan was saying. "Those twins may be daft, but I know they can pack a mean punch!" The identical pair of redheads grinned and made rude hand gestures at the commentator's podium. "The Slytherins had better watch themselves today!"
Scott watched as the taller Weasley shook hands with Keene. Though he was quite a distance away, it looked more as though they were attempting to injure one another than showing respect. They mounted their brooms and Madam Hooch, who was refereeing, blew her whistle.
"And they're off!" Lee shouted. "Slytherin in possession of the Quaffle as Flint streaks up the pitch, intercepted by Mumford, who takes it and passes it to - shit!"
The Slytherins whooped as Inglewood snatched the large red ball from Johnson's fingertips, darting up the pitch to the trio of towering gold poles affixed with hoops.
"Inglewood heads up to Gryffindor goals, dodges Olivier, dodges Weasley's Bludger." The iron cannonball went soaring by, narrowly avoiding the pursuing Mumford. "Inglewood lines up to score, can she do it? Let's hope not! And..."
Wood, the Gryffindor Keeper, narrowly deflected the oncoming Quaffle to cheers and applause from the Gryffindor stands. Alex leaned over to talk to Scott as play continued.
"So the Chasers," he asked, "they throw the Quaffle through the hoops to score points, sort of like in basketball, right?"
Scott nodded. "And the Beaters hit the Bludgers with their bats," he said, as Killian pelted one of the balls at a Gryffindor Chaser.
"Nuttiest position on the team, if you ask me," Ethan spoke up, having not been watching the game.
"I disagree," Scott argued. "The best offence is the best defence, and vice versa. I'd rather have a weapon to smack a Bludger than be the one getting smacked by them."
"Those are scary looking things, though," Alex said worriedly as a Bludger careened off Mumford's torso. "Has anyone ever died from them?"
"You'll find the answer to that and much more in that book I got you," Scott smiled evasively.
Alex glanced around at the figures zooming about on broomsticks. "And they're the Seekers?" he asked, pointing to Keene and Weasley. "They catch the Snitch, right?"
"Yep, the Snitch ends the game and gives the team that caught it an extra one hundred and fifty points," Scott informed him as Slytherin scored a goal.
Ethan scoffed. "Which is ridiculous, really. I mean, if you catch the Snitch, you've won regardless of any Chasers scoring. So why not just have the game be a broom race to the Snitch, or get rid of the Seeker position altogether?"
"Because Seekers take ages to catch the Snitch," Scott grumbled, repeating the same old argument he'd had with Ethan on the subject a hundred times before. "No-one wants to watch two numpties play 'I Spy' for an hour. So maybe you add Beaters to make it interesting? But if Beaters were always focused on the Seekers, no-one would ever catch the bloody Snitch, would they?"
"So the other players keep the game interesting for the audience, and keep the Beaters' attention split," Alex said, catching on. "I'll bet the Snitch is worth so much for the drama?"
"Among other things," Scott concurred. "'Quidditch Through the Ages' talks about it pretty in-depth."
"I still think it's dumb," Ethan sulked.
The game was still being played an hour and a half later. Slytherin were beating Gryffindor by a decent amount; a full fifty points. The Seekers on both sides had spotted the fluttering gold ball that was the Snitch a number of times, but every time they dived to catch it, a Bludger was launched their way, preventing the game's end. Scott thought that Gryffindor would be better off if their new players were better trained, but he couldn't hold them accountable for that – it was only the first match of the season. Their real issue was the communication between their Chasers. Individually, they were fairly stellar players, but as a unit; they struggled. As a result, they had been stuck at eighty points for nearly twenty minutes.
"Who's a better Seeker, do you reckon?" Alex asked Scott, having become more and more engrossed in the game as time ticked by.
"Weasley, for sure," Scott answered confidently.
"Really?" Alex questioned sceptically. "Keene's way faster, though."
"Keene's on a Cleansweep Seven. Best broom on the market, despite what Comet and Nimbus claims. Weasley's stuck with the Cleansweep Five, and yet he's still a danger to Keene's chances. And he pulled off a fantastic Sloth Grip Roll before."
"Everyone uses their own broomsticks?" Alex asked, palpably befuddled.
"Yeah, see, Johnson's got a Cleansweep Six, McCleary's on a Comet 260, the Weasley twins are on Cleansweep Fives, too," Scott said, pointing each of them out.
"But surely they should be regulated?" Alex demanded. "Wouldn't people who can afford better brooms win every time?"
Scott thought on this, and then nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. I'm not sure why that's allowed, frankly."
"Because Quidditch is stupid?" Ethan added helpfully.
Scott's retort was cut short by Gryffindor scoring. The deafening roar of the crowd that accompanied the boost in points suddenly escalated as the two Seekers went speeding along after a tiny golden glint.
"Weasley and Keene both chasing the Snitch!" Lee Jordan was screaming. "Keene gaining on Weasley, Keene passes Weasley, no, come on, Charlie - BUGGERING HELL!"
Keene swooped upwards, his fist clutched tightly around the Snitch. The Slytherins all screamed and shouted, stamping their feet and leaping about. Scott could just barely see the tiny figure of Scarlett Skeres jumping up and down, only her head visible over the students in front.
The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs all applauded politely as the Slytherins celebrated loudly. The Gryffindors began to leave dejectedly. Eddie Carmichael was being handed a few silver Sickles by Belby, who he'd apparently managed to dupe into his bet.
"Brilliant," Carmichael said, grinning as he stuffed the coins away.
Scott tried not to think about the silver's origins.
November seemed to pass in no time at all. The rain that had dominated their days eventually began to let up as the second match of the Quidditch season approached. Scott remained the top of the class in most subjects, and had managed to transform their joined History of Magic lessons with Hufflepuff into something that actually merited interest. Scott's commandeering of the subject had meant that the class now paid the proper degree of attention that would lead to better marks. Indeed, he'd received several words of thanks from his classmates following the arrival of their essay marks. Their class mean had managed to elevate to an impressive ninety point four percent, though Scott's marks had skewed the result slightly.
The air seemed to have become far colder as winter crept closer. Scott's morning workouts were now met with icy frost coating the grassy grounds, rather than torrential downpour. His detentions with Skeres had ended, meaning he only had to suffer her in Flying and Potions. Her arrogance had increased since Slytherin's success, and she now spent much of her time attempting to show off whenever they were on broomsticks. Alex's own flying was improving drastically. In their most recent class, they had performed a spectacular dive, and promptly come out of it in perfect form. Even Madam Hooch had been impressed.
Since the match, Scott had been spending a great deal of time immersing Alex in Quidditch. The Wizarding Wireless radio that sat in the common room gave live running commentary on Quidditch matches, and they'd often sit in front of it and listen. Scott had been attempting to convince them to support the Wimbourne Wasps, though Alex had insisted on getting to know the other teams first. Ethan did not approve of the inundation of Quidditch, and frequently scolded Scott for "brainwashing poor Alex" into "stupid hobbies".
In late November, the day of Ravenclaw's first match arrived. They were playing against Hufflepuff, who most agreed were likely to come last in the Championship. Ravenclaw weren't known for their sporting skills either, however, so the matchup was predicted to be fairly even.
For the second time that month, the school gathered around the stands of the Quidditch Pitch, though the atmosphere was subtly different, Scott felt. The Gryffindor-Slytherin game had been tense, and laced with dread or anticipation - it had been exciting in a dramatic way. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, however, didn't normally hold grudges against one another as their counterparts did. Inter-house tension existed, to be sure, but it was a friendly rivalry at most. By the end of the match between the houses, however, such presumptions were proven to be wrong.
The game had started normally. The Ravenclaw Captain, Valerian, had shaken hands with Miller of Hufflepuff. Hooch had blown her whistle. And then Harris, one of the Ravenclaw Beaters, had smacked a Bludger at the Hufflepuff Keeper before he'd even made a move for the goalposts. This had constituted a Quidditch foul, and Hufflepuff had begun with a penalty shot, which they succeeded in putting through.
This behaviour of Harris' was mirrored in his Beating counterpart, Hutchens, who very aggressively focused the brunt of his attacks at the Hufflepuff Keeper. Why the Keeper, a boy by the name of Goldsmith, was being targeted in such a manner was anyone's guess, but Valerian had evidently decided that enough was enough and called for time-out. Whilst Harris and Hutchens had been belting away at Hufflepuff's Keeper, the yellow-clad team had put through four goals. Scott could see, but not hear, the two boys being yelled at by the shorter boy who was their captain. They eventually took to the air again, each of them red-faced in fury.
The rest of the match continued in a seemingly normal fashion. Hufflepuff had been given a head-start, and were a few goals ahead, but Ravenclaw began to catch them up. After two hours of play, both teams had managed to become neck-and-neck with twelve goals each. Miller was streaking up the field with the Quaffle clutched firmly in her grip, a determined glint in her eye, when suddenly a second glint joined it. The glint zoomed by her face, and she suddenly stopped dead, watching the Snitch speed away.
Lee Jordan was screaming into his megaphone as both Seekers shot by Miller, and moments later, the Hufflepuff stands were cheering victoriously. Scott swore loudly as the Ravenclaw team descended to the earth, crestfallen. One member of the Ravenclaw team hadn't landed, however. Hutchens sped across the pitch, his broomstick taking him straight for the goalposts, which was where the Hufflepuffs had gathered in a mid-air embrace. The Hufflepuff spectators cried out in warning, but were too late. Hutchens' wand was out and pointed at Goldsmith. His next words were somehow loud enough that Scott could hear them from his section of the stands.
"This is for stealing Harris' girl, you rat-faced bastard! Stupefy!"
Goldsmith was falling, falling. The Hufflepuff Seeker dived to catch him, grabbing his robes by the hem. Goldsmith's weight was too much for the Seeker, however, and they both went tumbling down onto the grassy lawn below. Scott wasn't sure if he imagined the crunch as the two bodies heavily collided with the ground, but he knew that neither of them would be getting up from that very soon.
The Ravenclaws were gathered in their common room, a sense of gloom hanging over them. They'd lost their first game by a hundred and fifty points, and been publically humiliated by one of their own. Neither Valerian, nor the Beaters had shown their faces, but the other members of the team had returned. According to the Seeker, Harris and Hutchens had both been removed from the team, potentially indefinitely. This piece of information had brought a great deal of anxiety to the cohort, as they had no reserve Beaters, and none of the reserve players that they did have seemed to want to take up the roles left behind.
Much discussion was had over the reasons behind the behaviour from the two Beaters, and the accepted theory was that Harris had been broken up with by his girlfriend, who had left him to be with Goldsmith. Harris and his friend clearly hadn't taken this development very well, and had brought their personal issues onto the pitch, thus jeopardising Ravenclaw's win. If Hufflepuff hadn't been fifty points ahead so early in the game, and Ravenclaw's Beaters more focused throughout, the match could have gone very differently.
As the hours slogged by, snow began to fall outside the window, the chill driving many of Scott's housemates from the common room. Ethan had wandered off, muttering something about feeding Cyril. Even he had been negatively affected by the loss, despite all of his claims that Quidditch was a waste of time. Scott and Alex were lying back on a blue chaise lounge in the common room, stewing on the day's events.
"How do you think Goldmsith and the Hufflepuff Seeker are doing?" Alex pondered.
"I think Diggory's already out of the hospital wing, but Goldsmith didn't do too well. He'll probably be in till tomorrow."
"Diggory?" Alex asked, her eyes squinting in thought.
"The pretty boy," Scott elaborated. "About my height, second year?"
"Oh, yeah, I get you now."
"If I cared even a little," Scott smirked, "I'd be more worried about Harris and Hutchens."
Alex snickered. "Did you hear that one of our Chasers was planning to get them both with Bat-Bogey Hexes?"
"They'll have to get in line behind the Hufflepuffs," Scott chuckled. "They are not happy."
They subsided into contemplative silence. "It's bad news, though," she said quietly, looking at Scott. "Ravenclaw play next, right?"
"Yeah, in February," Scott confirmed, not looking at all pleased. "Slytherin are going to flatten us. Do you think anyone will notice if we make Skeres disappear beforehand?" he asked hopefully.
"Pellon might," Alex reasoned. "D'you think they're an item?"
Scott shuddered at the thought. "I'd rather keep to Quidditch, thanks," he muttered. Making sure not to think about his two least favourite people snogging, he considered Ravenclaw's options going forward. "I wonder when they'll open tryouts for new Beaters," he wondered. "I'd try out if I could have my broom here, but..."
Alex was watching him, her face alit with excitement, as though struck with inspiration. "Scott, that's it!" she exclaimed eagerly. "What if we both tried out?"
Scott blinked at her owlishly. "First years can't have brooms at school, though, Alex," he said doubtfully. "There's not been a first year on a team for ages."
"But it's happened before?" Alex pressed.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "Er, yeah, the last was in eighteen-ninety-"
"You said yourself that we were the best two fliers in our class," she reminded him.
He rolled his eyes. "I was just trying to rile up Skeres. Besides, there's bound to be plenty of older students with brooms who're better."
"I remember you saying that Weasley was a better flier despite his broom," Alex insisted. "Maybe Valerian will see that in us!"
"Look where that got Weasley, though!" Scott argued. "Last place for the Cup!"
Alex didn't seem to acquiesce to his points; instead she just seemed more excited. "Listen, why don't we just see what happens?" she asked. "If we're not good enough, we don't get in. But imagine if we did?"
"I don't care about imagining it, I'm telling you, there's no point!" Scott shouted. He was starting to get frustrated now. Why couldn't she just accept that it was foolish to try if there was no chance they'd succeed?
"Scott, come on, please?" she simpered winningly. "You won't be alone. I'm sure you'll look way better than me. I've never even held a Beater's bat before."
Scott looked at her for a while. Her face was shining with optimism. He had to admit, it was infectious. He sighed theatrically, shaking his head. "If we do this –"
She cheered, hugging him tightly. "Ha! I knew you'd give in eventually!"
"I haven't finished," he chided. "If we do this, I want to make a few things crystal clear."
She let go, leaning back and giving him her full attention.
"If I commit to something, I don't go with half-measures. I'll be dedicating myself to this completely. But," he said, fixing her with a serious look, "you are going to have to commit to this, too. We get up at five forty-five every morning except Wednesdays, and we go through the paces, come sleet or snow. And," his look became even sterner, "no more of these sugary foods at meals. We need nutrients, not rubbish."
"You done?" Alex asked, grinning.
"We start tomorrow morning," he continued doggedly, ignoring her. "Make sure you get enough sleep - I'll be checking."
"And how will you check if you're asleep?" she teased, smirking.
He tried desperately to keep the answering grin off his face.