(CoS) CHAPTER EIGHT: Eat Slugs

When they reached the Quidditch field an hour later, they found the Slytherin team already there.

"Weird," murmured Ron to Ellie and Harry. He and Hermione had come along to spectate. "What's this about?"

"Oliver, didn't you say you reserved the pitch for today?" asked Angelina.

"Of course, I did," said Oliver, glaring resentfully at Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Captain. "Oi—Flint!" he shouted. "Gryffindor's got the field this morning!"

"Change of plans," Flint told Oliver smugly as he handed him a slip of parchment. "Snape's orders."

Oliver read the note to himself before finishing out loud, "In order to train your new seeker." He sighed and looked up at Flint. "You've got a new Seeker. Who?"

And that was when the sea of green and silver parted to reveal none other than Draco Malfoy. And in all of their hands were bright, shiny Nimbus 2001's.

Ellie couldn't help herself; she let out a loud, obvious snort.

"What?" Oliver asked her. "You know him?"

"Oh, I know him," she said gleefully, smirking at Draco as he glared at her. "Don't worry, Ollie. With Draco as their Seeker, they might as well just hand Harry the Snitch now."

Oliver looked pleased as punch at that; Flint looked nervous.

"As if you're one to talk," Draco sneered at her. "Only reason they let you on the team is because you snogged the captain."

Ellie flinched at that, but didn't have to think of a comeback; Hermione was one step ahead of her. "At least no one on Gryffindor had to buy their way in."

Snickers erupted around them at that, and Draco's face went red as a tomato. "What do you know about any of this, you filthy little Mudblood?"

Hermione and several other students gasped at that. Ron looked like he was contemplating a murder. Ellie knew it was a rude term for a Muggle-born, but wasn't entirely sure why it was such a big deal.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Ron shouted, jabbing his broken wand at Draco.

Unfortunately, thanks to the Whomping Willow, the spell backfired.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, and he threw up a slug.

"El," Fred whispered as they started to follow Harry, Ron, Hermione away from the Quidditch field and toward Hagrid's hut. "We need the last word. Say something mean to Malfoy."

Ellie glanced back at Draco, trying to find something about his appearance to pick on. "Hey, Draco," she shouted, settling for the first thing that popped into her head. "Mr. Clean called. He wants his hair back!"

All the Muggle-borns on the team burst into laughter at that, and several of the others did, too, whether they understood it or not. Draco looked confused.

"I don't get it," George whispered as they continued on down the path to Hagrid's hut.

"Muggle stuff," Ellie explained airily.

"You're a pureblood," Fred pointed out.

"Okay—Muggle commercials that ex-witches let their kids watch. Eh?"

He laughed. "Fair enough."

When they entered Hagrid's hut, Ron was already curled up in the corner, retching into a bucket, and Hermione was sobbing about the cruelty of what Draco had said. Harry looked concerned, but, like Ellie, didn't seem to understand the extent of everyone's fury.

"It's a really foul term for someone who's Muggle-born," Hermione explained to him as she wiped her tears. "Not exactly a term one hears in civilized conversation."

"Don't you think twice on it, 'Ermione," said Hagrid, who looked almost as furious as Ron. "He's only jealous 'cause yeh're twice the witch he is."

"It's just a word," Ellie told Hermione gently. "It only has the power you give it."

Hermione sighed. "I suppose you're right. I wish he hadn't had the satisfaction of seeing me cry."

"If it helps," offered Fred, "I don't think he got to linger on it wrong before El threw a fresh insult on him that went right over his head."

Hermione chuckled slightly. "I suppose that helps."

They sat in silence for several minutes, listening only to the grotesque sound of Ron vomiting up slugs. Finally, Harry said, "So. Halloween's coming up."

"And with it, a certain someone's induction into teenagerdom," added Fred with a grin in Ellie's direction.

She groaned. "As long as it doesn't involve another cave troll this year, I'll be happy."

"I've got it," announced Fred a few days later. "We should have a Halloween concert! What better way to celebrate El's birthday?"

They were in the common room, fiddling absentmindedly with their instruments. Ellie wasn't entirely sure they were ready for another concert, but Ginny, who had still seemed a little off the past few days, seemed enthusiastic about the idea, and that alone was enough to make Ellie nod.

"If you're willing to ask McGonagall, I'm willing to do it," she said. "I vote we only play a small set list, though. Also, you weren't supposed to remember my birthday."

"Get over it, El—we're not forgetting," said Fred brightly. "Your birthday was awesome last year."

"Yeah, troll and all," she muttered, though it had been pretty fun.

"Stop being a Negative Nancy," scolded George. "We'll ask McGonagall tonight after dinner. I think she has a soft spot for our budding band, anyway."

Ellie smiled slightly at that thought.

"Hey, Ellie," called out the familiar voice of Oliver from behind her. She turned to see him next to Harry, grinning at her. "With the Slytherins hogging the field as of late, I've decided to take the team out in smaller groups by the lake for practice. You free for the next hour or so?"

Ellie glanced at Harry, who shrugged as if to say, just another one of his weird strategies. "Er—sure. Just the three of us?"

Oliver nodded. "Fred, George—I'll come back for you two afterwards. Sound good?"

"Sounds groovy," said Fred, who didn't exactly sound sincere.

Oliver shot him a look at that before leading Ellie and Harry out toward the lake.

"So," he said as they walked. "Slytherin'll be first up again, same as last year. Whatever practicing you can squeeze in on your own, please do. You two are friends, right?"

Ellie grinned at Harry. "More like distant acquaintances."

"Ellie's friends with everyone," Harry told Oliver with a matching grin. "Well, except the entirety of Slytherin House."

"As it should be," said Oliver with a satisfied nod. "Come on, then—up we go."

Oliver ran some interesting drills with them—practicing dives, sharp turns, and legal attack strategies, some of which Ellie had never even thought of before. This was one of her favourite sides of Oliver—his talent for Quidditch—and she loved when he shared it with her.

After about an hour, they finally touched back down, and Oliver nodded at both of them in approval. "Nice work. That's enough for today. I'll wait here—mind sending the twins out to me?"

"Sure," she said easily, and started to leave—at least, until he caught her by the arm.

"Heard you have a birthday coming up," he said under his breath so that Harry couldn't hear him.

She shot him a playfully sarcastic look at that. "It's not a magic number, Ollie."

His eyes flashed, no less determined. "It could be."

She leaned in closer—so close that, for a second, she actually saw a look of surprise register in his usually confident eyes. But she didn't kiss him. Instead, with the smallest of smirks on her face, she whispered, "Don't hold your breath."

And she walked away from him.

Damn, Ellie - with that almost-teenagerdom comes a little bit of sass, eh? I obviously have a soft spot for the character I created, but I was cheering for her - how about you? We'll dive into Ellie's thirteenth birthday in the next chapter, so make sure not to miss it, and please review if you're enjoying the story!