XI. ALL'S FAIR IN WAR & QUIDDITCH
"-Jewel? For Merlin's sake," Tracey's voice hissed above me as I groaned and lazily flung my arm over my eyes, "you've got to stop passing out reading in the common room! Jewel? Are you even lis-? Jewel!"
"Whassa Jewel? Never heard of him," I claimed groggily, snuggling deeper into the sofa.
Tracey released a loud sigh.
"Alright, I'll play along-if you aren't Jewel, then who are you?"
"...Tracey? Wait, scratch that-can I be a Saiyan? Or a magical girl? I'll punish people in the name of the moon-which sorta feels like a nocturnal thing, soo-"
There was a long pause.
Giving up, Tracey flopped back onto the sofa at my feet with a groan.
"You're just-I don't even know, Jewel."
Cracking my eyes open, I peeked out from behind my arm.
"Unique?"
"Try unbalanced," she snorted, poking my socked foot(at some point, my mind buzzing and in a daze after I sprinted headlong into the common room and collapsed on the closest available surface, I'd kicked off my shoes).
"Fair. Ever since flying class, I've realised I'm absolutely wasted walking. I'm like an owl.Or apenguin. My equilibrium is way more suited to the sky-"
"Not what I meant, but okay. Wait, did you say penguin?"
"They're cute."
"They're flightless."
"Fine. Let's go to the Astronomy Tower. I'll hop off. Show you how flightless I am."
"-point taken. You're still insane, though."
I made a half and half gesture.
Tracey huffed.
"What time is it?"
"Er-" she checked her watch, "a little past eight. If we don't hurry, we'll miss breakfast-so you need to get the hell up and get ready. I'm hungry."
She poked my foot again and I jerked it away involuntarily.
Tracey's eyes sparkled.
"Are you ticklish?"
I bolted upright, fell off the sofa sideways, and leapt to my feet.
"Stay back, you-mad woman!"
Ignoring the weird stares I got from bystanders for my outburst, I swiped Hairy Snout Human Heart from the sofa(-where it was lying after I, may or may not have, passed out clutching it like a teddy bear)and legged it.
At the same time, Malfoy made his way down the boy's stairs.
-I swear he does it on purpose.
He stopped short, thrown off balance-kinda understandably at seeing me running at him full tilt with Tracey hastily on my heels.
(doesn't help that, last he saw me, I rightly accused him of setting Harry Ron and me up, freaked out about how the hell I could possibly know what he'd done or that he'd just come from dobbing us into Filch-which was probably just a result of really amazing guesswork and common sense, then abruptly booked it out the common room like I was on fire and the extinguisher was on the other side of the castle-plus, he doubtlessly expected me to be on the train home by now-tosser-).
"Potter? What-?"
I shoved him out of the way and dashed upstairs(on the girl's side; then again, if I'd taken the boy's stairs, I'd be home free-and I could've grabbed a uniform shirt and pants off Blaise Zabini or Theodore Nott-they're not that much taller than me-and Nott's pretty skinny, I'm sure I could fit into his pants if I roll the legs enough-and by this point, my relative shamelessness has been well established-).
"YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!"
"Jewel, you absolute NUTCASE!"
As soon as I reached my dorm, I threw open the door and raced to tuck my book away on the shelves above my bed(the first row is personal, the second library, and my school books are stacked on top alongside my collection of colourful bookmarks, some spare parchment, and my backup black swan feather quill and inkwell)and grab the fresh uniform that Tracey had left neatly folded on my bed(a recent habit she'd picked up; being relegated by default to 'wake up Jewel duty', she found that having everything already set out gets me-and in that her-to breakfast faster).
Darting into the bathroom, I slammed the door and locked it.
"Uh-?" Pansy stood by the mirror, a raspberry pink hairbrush in hand and her brown hair half tangled and half flat.
"-I'm not here."
"Yeah, I don't care," she said, barely phased by this point.
She'd already gone back to brushing out her hair.
"Awesome."
With athumbs-up, I hopped into the shower and pulled the thankfully not see-through curtain firmly shut so I could change.
Quickly tugging off my rumpled/slept-in uniform, I pulled on a clean button-down shirt, skirt, underwear, black three-quarter length daisy print leggings, and my robes. Reluctantly, I draped my green and silver tie around my shoulders(McGonagall's been on me about wearing it; tying it is a whole other matter entirely).
Done, I pulled open the curtain-
And, seeing Pansy had magically transformed into Tracey holding up my red Dorothy flats, slipped, almost fell backwards onto my ass, and barely caught myself with my arms against the black marble-tiled walls and a leg suspended randomly in mid-air. The clothes I'd just changed out of flew in random directions.
My skirt landed in the sink.
See? Graceful as a bloomin' potato.
"AH! WITCHCRAFT!"
I poked her nose.
"Oh my god-" Tracey dropped her face into her free hand, "Come on-let's go eat something before you break-the castle-"
With a sigh, she took my arm, pulling me out of the bathroom while I grinned impishly, tongue peeking out between my teeth.
Pansy Daphne and Bulstrode were quick to ditch us so, after I'd grabbed my bag, we headed to the Great Hall alone. Tracey was muttering about how she was going to murder the others for leaving her to deal with me alone-and about how mental I am-while I did my best to remain on my 'best behaviour'.
"That's a nice wall," I commented conversationally.
Tracey stared at me.
"What? I'm making small talk!" I defended.
She snorted in disbelief.
"'That's a nice wall?' is your idea of small talk?"
A grin tugged at my lips.
"I quite fancy that wall, too, but don't tell the other wall-" I added conspiratorially, "I don't want to make it jealous."
Tracey did not look amused.
Realising I was meant to be defusing the situation, not making it worse(I really can't help myself, can I?), my brain decided that the best course of action was to mime zipping my lips, throw the pretend key into a pretend goldfish bowl-complete with a pretend goldfish I named 'Shark', and 'chuck it' over my shoulder.
I dusted off my hands.
"That isn't helping," Tracey deadpanned.
I looked at her, feigning a scandalized look.
Stopping just inside the Great Hall, and giving zero shits that literally the entire school could see us, I mimed being in a box.
"Oh, for the-" she covered her face in exasperation.
In reply, I mockingly bowed and blew exaggerated kisses to an imaginary crowd.
-so much for my 'best behaviour'.
How long did that last, forty-two seconds?
"Jules!"
Hearing Harry, I looked up quickly.
Seeing him and Ron giving me weird looks from Gryffindor table appearing tired(but strangely cheerful; now that the fear and panic had faded, the idiots seemed to think our near-death experience was an adventure), and remembering why I was sofa-surfing this time, an icy pit sunk in my gut. I considered going back for Shark(don't want animal rights on my ass for pretend goldfish abuse/negligence-), and the key to my voice box, but, with the seriousness of the situation pushing down on me, just opened my mouth like a normal person and turned to Tracey-
She instantly shoved me at Ron and Harry.
"Yes, go, do-I'll save you a seat."
I pouted playfully as the Irish girl spun and swiftly left for Slytherin table.
"It almost feels like you're trying to get rid of me!"
"That's because I am!"
I gasped melodramatically and clutched my chest.
"Ohhh! You cursed brat! Look what you've done! I'm melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world! Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness! Oooh-"
I pretended to melt for way longer than necessary but stopped when I noticed that pretty much everyone was staring at me.
"What?" I snorted with my hands on my hips, rolling my eyes like they were the weird ones in this situation. "Never seen a first year recite the Wicked Witch of the West's last words as they died of betrayal before?"
With that said, I carelessly swung on my heel.
"You're just a bit mental, you know," Ron told me when I bounced over to them, shaking his head with a grin.
"I pride myself on it," I quipped unabashedly, taking the seat on Harry's other side and grabbing a handful of bacon.
"Did you sleep okay?" Harry asked, getting the formalities out of the way.
"I passed out on a sofa in the common room-but I do that all the time, so no one even batted an eye. You?"
"I slept fine-but listen," he said quickly, keeping his voice low, "did you notice anything last night in the third-floor corridor? On the floor by the three-headed dog's feet?"
I stared at him.
"It was a three-headed dog-I was a bit preoccupied with that. Who the hell was looking at its feet?"
"Hermione," Ron rolled his eyes. "She said the dog was standing on a trapdoor," he added when I blinked at him, taken aback, "and that it must be guarding something."
"'Guarding something?'" I repeated. "What on earth-"
Then, it clicked.
"...Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe-except..."
"Hogwarts," Harry finished.
"You don't think...?" I said slowly, looking at him with wide eyes.
Ron looked suddenly lost.
"Don't think what?"
Harry and I traded a glance.
Quickly, Harry filled him in on the package that we suspect was moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts by Hagrid on Dumbledore's orders(the very same day there was a break-in at the goblin run bank, which is way too coincidental to not be connected under the circumstances)-which had us all wondering what the hell it wasand why it needed such heavy protection.
At this point, all we really know is that it was probably targeted by thieves the day Hagrid picked it up, and it was about two inches long.
"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," Ron figured.
"Or both," Harry added.
"I still say that trapdoor leads to the Underworld," I hummed. "As if Cerberus isn't proof enough."
After a while, spotting my adversary, I bid Harry and Ron adieu and got up to return to my own table.
"This really isn't going to end well," Ron remarked to Harry, despite eagerly peering around to watch the show.
"Flint," I greeted pleasantly, shoving in between him and another bloke to sit down.
"Potter?-"
"I'm here to discuss my tryouts."
Flint stared at me blankly.
"...What?"
"Look," I said, "I'll admit that trying to hit you in front of McGonagall probably wasn't my brightest moment, but you pissed me off. Regardless, I'm really doing you a favour by being here-"
The trollish teenager had an incredulous look on his face.
"How are you doing me a favour?"
"Do you want to lose to Gryffindor?" I countered rhetorically(I've decided to go the direct, slightly overbearing, Hermione method of just walking up and bluntly telling him what's what), "Because if you don't put me on your team, you almost certainly will. I have it on good authority that they have a strong line-up this year-and plan on crushing the Slytherin team into a fine powder. You strike me as someone who prizes brute strength over talent-which is a stupid strategy, but we'll get to that later-but you'll never win if you don't have a bloody good flier on your team."
Flint looked stunned.
"And you're that bloody good flier?" he said slowly.
"I'm the best," I corrected cockily.
It took Flint a second to get his bearings after all of that.
"I get that you're famous,but-"
"What does me being famous have to do with anything?" I demanded.
"Uh-look, Potter-" he back-pedalled, "I told you, all the positions are filled-"
"What's the harm in just seeing me fly?" I interrupted defiantly.
"I'm not going to waste my time-"
My green eyes flashed.
"What makes you think it'd be a 'waste of time?' Because I'm a first year? Because McGonagall told you I'm good? Or just because I'm a girl?"
"I never said that you being a girl-" he bit out.
"Tell me," I said pointedly, "are there any girls in your line-up?"
His expression made it clear there weren't.
"I don't have time for this," Flint suddenly snapped, the shock of me forcefully sitting down and asking him about my tryouts being replaced with irritation. "Go bother somebody else."
"Sure, I'd love to," I agreed with a big fake smile that quickly dropped, "-as soon as you agree to see me fly."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake-"
Fed up, Flint stood and grabbed his bag.
"This isn't over!" I hollered after him.
"I think you'll find it is!" he retorted as he stomped out of the Great Hall.
My eye twitched, face flushed pink in anger and frustration.
"I will haunt your nightmares!"
Most of the hall turned to gawk at me.
There was an awkward beat.
"Well, that could've gone better," I mused.
"Don't worry, Jewel-you'll get him next time!" Ron called over with a thumbs up.
I flipped him off.
"Miss Potter!"
From the other side of the room, I could hear Fred and George cackling.
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
All week, I stubbornly followed Flint around the common room like a crazy ex, determined to annoy him into seeing me fly-or sway him with my confidence in my own abilities(which I've smartly been honing by reading books on Quidditch strategy and training with the school brooms; Hagrid has a key to the sports shed and, when I explained my situation, he was happy to help-and to supervise my one-person practices in a tucked-away paddock five minutes from his place; I would've gone to the Quidditch pitch, but I didn't want to deal with other people-or the odd Quidditch team that might've booked it; mainly Flint and Wood, what with their upcoming grudge match in November).
At the same time, mindful of my promise to Wood to keep Harry being Gryffindor Seeker under wraps, I haven't indulged why I've been stalking the Slytherin Quidditch Captain to the severalpeople that's asked me-namely, Hermione(who has been icing out Ron and Harry ever since...that gigantic three-headed monster dog almost turned us into squeaky toys in that forbidden corridor we totally were not meant to break into; not that they seem to be suffering from her silent treatment-), my dorm mates, and even Malfoy(as far as everybody knows, first years aren't allowed to bring broomsticks to school, let alone play for one of the house teams...which would be a bit awkward without the aforementioned broomstick...literally, all I can think about now is Harry tripping up and down the field trying to catch the Golden Snitch with a butterfly netlike in The Cat in the bloody Hat...-if anything, they probably think I'm harassing Flint a year early).
Malfoy had semi-interrogated me, more than once, about why I'd been what I've been referring to as 'locked in a battle of wills' with Marcus -wanker- Flint. So, to distract him from the situation entirely, I set him off by accusing him of being jealous that I'd briefly abandoned fighting with him for fighting with Flint-
"I am not jealous!"
Worked like a charm.
Harry Ron and even Fred and George agree that Flint's being an idiot.
All he had to do is see me fly, then I'd go away.
You know, as long as he puts me on the team afterwards-or refuses for a legitimate reason and not just because I'm a girl.
I actually think I'm wearing him down.
At this rate, I'll be on the team this time in three years.
You know-after Flint's graduated.
If he graduates in three years, I mean-he was held back.
Sitting at Slytherin table a week after the Cerberus incident(as I had mentally labelled it; I still say that dog's there guarding the entrance to Hades-nothing will convince me otherwise), I scowled at Flint down the table and stabbed at my breakfast sausages eggs and bacon, eating them aggressively.
Tracey Pansy and Daphne exchanged looks.
"You have egg yolk on your shirt," Pansy informed me.
I just grunted.
"You know, whatever you're after from Marcus Flint," Daphne remarked slowly, "I doubt you'll get it by glaring at him like you'd like nothing more than to see his head on a pike."
"Subjective."
"What did he do?" Pansy looked incredulous.
My jaw set.
"It's more what he didn't do-but will."
"Ah," she said sarcastically, "that makes perfect sense."
"Seriously, what is it about Flint that's made you all-homicidal?" Tracey gestured at my face questioningly.
"He's being a sexist prick," I spat.
"About what?" she pressed.
"Quidditch, obviously," Malfoy drawled as he suddenly sat across from us, clearly having moved after overhearing/eavesdropping on our conversation, and Crabbe and Goyle were quick to muscle their way into the 'free' place beside him(disgruntling a group of second year girls who shot them dirty looks).
"'Quidditch?'" Tracey Daphne and Pansy echoed blankly.
"He's the team captain," Malfoy pointed out obviously, "it's the only thing that makes sense."
Turning back to me, he frowned.
"What doesn't make sense-" he added, sounding frustrated, "is why on earth you think bugging Flint is going to do anything when you can't go out for the team, or even have a broomstick at Hogwarts, until next year."
I'd be almost impressed he'd figured all of that out if it wasn't so obvious.
-and if he wasn't Malfoy.
"I think your jealousy is making you jump to conclusions."
"I am not-" Malfoy cut himself off, irritated. "Quit trying to distract me from whatever's going on."
"Why would I do that?" I countered archly. "And, more to the point, why would you even care?"
"I don't," he insisted.
"Seems like you do."
"Look who's jumping to conclusions now."
"Still you."
"Would you just-!"
"What? Kitty cat got your tongue, Malfoy? I'm curious to know what I should just."
"I'd say you should just stop being one of the most maddening people I have ever met, but that would beimpossible-"
"Ha! Compared to you, I'm a field of bloody dandelions, you stuck-up-"
"Oh my god, shut up," Daphne groaned loudly.
Malfoy and I blinked at her.
At that moment, the Owl Post hit-which wouldn't of made us completely forget our argument if twelve of them, six each, weren't carrying two long broomstick-shaped packages, one of which was dropped in front of me and the other Harry.
I traded a wide-eyed look with Harry across the hall.
Another two owls swooped down, dumping a letter on each of our laps.
"...Don't tell me that's what I think it is," Malfoy stated, looking from me to the package in shock and disbelief. "Not even you would be that stupid-"
Ignoring that, I quickly tore open my letter, angling it away from Daphne and Pansy on my either side when they attempted to get a look at what it said.
DO NOT OPEN PARCEL AT THE TABLE
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you and your brother have gotten a broomstick or they'll all want one.
It's for when you make the Slytherin Quidditch Team.
Hagrid has told me about how hard you've been training on your own, and I think that hard work deserves to be rewarded-even if this might seem a bit premature.
Professor McGonagall
Not if I make the team, when.
I looked up at the High Table, speechless.
No one had ever...she isn't even my Head of House-and I'm fighting to play on a rival team, and she's clearly really into Quidditch-why would she...?
A warm feeling spread through me.
Spotting Harry reading his own letter, I abruptly leapt up and grabbed my parcel.
"Wait, where are you going?" Pansy said, taken aback.
"Don't worry about it-"
"But-but class starts in-!" Tracey sputtered.
"I know-I told you, don't worry-I'll meet you there-I won't be late, promise-"
Malfoy made to argue but I was already rushing across the hall.
"'I won't be late', she says," Daphne remarked ironically.
"Your idea of being late is very different from the rest of ours!" Tracey exclaimed before cupping her mouth to shout after me, "Late, by definition, means anything after class, or whatever else, has been scheduled to start-turning up ten minutes into the lesson is not arriving on time-!"
"Does she even know when that is?" Daphne snorted.
"Of course she does," Tracey huffed, dropping her hands, "how else would she always turn up exactly ten minutes late to every single lesson but Potions?"
"How doesn't Jewel have detention, like, every single weekend yet?" Pansy wondered seriously.
Daphne and Tracey both shrugged, equally mystified.
"Oy, losers!"
I skidded to a stop behind Harry and Ron, buzzing excitedly and grinning like a lunatic.
"You got one too?" Ron said disbelievingly, too amazed by the sight of the parcel in my hands to react to the fact that I'd called them 'losers'.
"It's for when I make the team!" I told him brightly.
"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" he moaned enviously as he looked between our parcels. "I've never even touched one."
Wanting to get a look at our new Nimbus Two Thousands(I'm not allowed to know where their common room is, and they obviously aren't allowed to know where mine is, so we were just going to find an empty classroom), we hurried out of the Great Hall-only to stop halfway across the entrance upon finding the stairs blocked by Crabbe and Goyle, something I probably should've seen coming.
Malfoy snatched the parcel right out of my hands.
"Oy!"
After confirming his suspicions, he threw it back.
"That's a broomstick," he said, face twisted with jealousy and spite. "You'll be in for it this time-you too, Potter-" he added with a nasty look in Harry's direction, "first years aren't allowed them."
"They're not just any old broomsticks," Ron chimed in, not being able to resist the temptation to throw salt in the wound(an instinct I greatly admired), "they're Nimbus Two Thousands. What did you say you've got at home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron shot me and Harry a grin, "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."
"Have I ever told you how much I value our friendship?" I asked Ron with a wide smirk.
Malfoy scowled.
"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle. I suppose you and your brothers could save up, twig by twig."
Before Ron could retort, or I could take one of those twigs and jab Malfoy in the eye with it, Flitwick suddenly appeared at Malfoy's elbow.
"Not arguing, I hope, boys, Miss Potter?" he squeaked.
"The Potters have been sent broomsticks, Professor," Malfoy said, instantly dobbing me and Harry in.
Much to his shock, Flitwick beamed at us.
"Yes, yes, that's right. Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances. And what model are they?"
A look of abject horror crossed Malfoy's face.
I just-I just love life, you know?
"They're Nimbus Two Thousands, sir-" Harry looked like he was struggling to keep from laughing. Unable to help himself, he added, "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that we've got them."
Malfoy's expression was a mix of rage and confusion.
Grinning gleefully, I shot him a mocking salute before following Ron and Harry upstairs to find a safe place to check out our Nimbus'.
Harry and Ron smothered their laughter.
I laughed outright, hoping the git hears me(and not caring what the tiny Charms teacher made of my abrupt contextless cackling).
At the top of the staircase, Harry chortled.
"Well, it's true," he pointed out with a grin, "if he hadn't stolen Neville's Remembrall I wouldn't be on the team-and Jewel wouldn't be-"
"-almost on my house team."
"Uh, right," Harry said awkwardly, sharing a look with Ron.
"So I suppose you think that's a reward for breaking the rules?"
We all turned quickly.
Seeing an angry Hermione storming up the stairs had me wincing.
Her eyes were focused disapprovingly on mine and Harry's new broomsticks.
"I thought you weren't speaking to us?" Harry remarked.
"Yes, don't stop now, it's doing us so much good," Ron added.
In one swift movement, I elbowed the both of them.
"Ow! Jewel-!"
"Bloody hell!"
A sharp look shut them up.
"Hermione-"
Without a word, she marched off with her nose in the air.
"Come on, 'Mione-" I called, shoving my Nimbus at Ron, "don't hate me because I associate with assholes!"
"Hey!"
"Oy!"
I melodramatically threw out my arms.
"Come back and love me!"
Sprinting down the marble staircase at full speed, I hug-tackled her from behind-unexpectedly sending both of us careening into the Great Hall and landing on the floor in the doorway with shrieks and resounding thumps.
"-Would you believe that was an accident?...uh, right-well, it's been a joy tackling you, I'll just-uh-I'm late for that thing-"
"Jewel!"
"I love you?"
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
Somehow, Hermione and I are cool.
In a weird way, I think she was touched that I cared enough to tackle her so she wouldn't be mad at me.
After I smoothed things over-and apologised for, you know, tackling her(I just meant to hug her, I didn't mean to full-on rugby tackle her into the Great Hall), I went to catch up with Harry and Ron only to see them waiting for me at the bottom of the entrance staircase. I want to say it's because they like me and didn't want to go off without me, or even because Ron had my broomstick...buuut it's more likely they realised what was about to happen and rushed downstairs to witness me tackling Hermione. Thanks to all of the impromptu cameos, we didn't have time to check our Nimbus' out before class-so, after I got mine back, I reluctantly made my way down into the dungeons to roll it beneath my bed in my dorm for later.
-okay, so I might've peaked.
It's all sleek and gorgeous with a mahogany handle, a long neat tail of straight twigs, and the words 'Nimbus Two Thousand' written in gold near the top-and lends credibility to my 'Hogwarts-is-using-the-school-brooms-to-thin-out-the-duds/Darwinism/Madam-Hooch-might-be-trying-to-kill-us' theory.
Having trouble concentrating in school isn't anything new for me(it's easier than when I'm in the Great Hall, but I get bored easily and my mind naturally drifts-and, when it does, I find it even harder to snap myself out of it when I get all 'spacey'), but today was even worse. All I could think about was grabbing my Nimbus, going down to Hagrid's, and flying about my designated training paddock 'till I drop.
The only lesson I made any real effort in was Transfigurations, and that's only because what McGonagall did-
I'm not used to people believing in me, or doing shit like this.
Dakota and Alistair, yes, but before them...
This meant the world to me, and I wanted her to know that.
Judging from the small smile on her face when she saw how hard I was trying to be on my genuine 'best behaviour' as a way of saying thank you, I think she did.
(and that's not easy for me-not only because I'm a little shit, and a 'class clown', but because I literally can't focus without repeatedly snapping myself with a rubber band...which is in no way normal, and kinda super weird, but whatever-).
After class, I stayed back to bombard her with actual thank yous(reminding myself of Harry outside of Eeylops Owl Emporium after Hagrid bought him Hedwig)-and to inform her that I'd be good for a straight month.
I'll just channel all my Transfigurations misbehaviour in Defence/on Quirrell in the meantime, it'll probably be fine.
I also told her that she was officially my favourite teacher.
I asked her if I was her favourite student and she kicked me out-but that was probably a yes, right?
That afternoon, I was right back to annoying the hell out of Flint in the common room. In fact, not even bothering to beat around the bush, I just sprinted right up to him and blurted, "I have a Nimbus Two Thousand."
Flint's mouth, which had opened to likely tell me to go away or groan, dropped open.
"You have a Nimbus Two Thousand?"
"And I'll let you see it, even hold it...at my tryouts," I goaded.
Flint just stared at me stupidly for a moment.
"Are you trying to use your Nimbus to leverage me into letting you try out for the team?" he said in disbelief.
"Yep," I agreed unabashedly.
For a second, Flint looked fairly impressed.
"Look," he scowled suddenly, "just because you have a decent broomstick-"
"The best model on the market right now."
"-doesn't mean I'm just going to let you on the team."
"I'm not telling you to just give me a spot!" I argued, temper starting to flare, "I want to try out, same as anyone else."
"You're a first year-" Flint stated the obvious, "you aren't even supposed to be allowed to try out untilnext year."
"So, what, this is you taking a stand against special treatment?" I snorted.
"If that makes you go away, then sure," he said.
"And it has absolutely nothing to do with my gender?" I challenged sarcastically.
"Fine!" Flint snapped, "I won't let you on the team because you're a girl and you'd be a liability on the field-you'd probably fall off your broom within the first five minutes-so what? I'm the captain, and I make the decisions, and I like winning-so no, I'm not letting a little girl on my team. I don't have time to hold your hand and the rest of the team shouldn't have to worry about you getting hurt because you're a girl."
"Just because I'm a girl," my eyes flashed, face flushing angrily, "doesn't mean I can't take a hit-"
"From a Bludger?" he scoffed, "it'd squish you."
"You are such a sexist, meatheaded-!"
As soon as I pulled back my fist Pansy and Tracey popped up seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed me, and hastily dragged me away.
"Agh! Let me go!"
"Jewel! Do you really want detention for punching Marcus Flint?" Tracey tried to reason as she and Pansy desperately struggled to stop me from breaking out of their holds-what can I say? I'm a wildcat.
"Yes! I think I've made that pretty bloomin' obvious! Now let me the hell go before I punch you, too!"
They instantly let go but, by the time I'd turned around, Flint had already made his escape up the boy's steps and out of sight.
"Coward!" I hollered. "Come back down here and fight me! Are you really running scared from a 'little girl?'"
Wisely, he didn't come back down.
"Sonofa-" I cursed, kicking a nearby chair.
When I stormed up to my dorm and came back down to curl up on one of the sofas with Beating the Bludgers - A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch, everybody avoided me like the plague. I even changed into my PJs(a pair of apple green bottoms I pair with the various music/geeky shirts Alistair's gotten me; this time, it was a red and white 'The Cure' band t-shirt that always makes me hum either The Lovecats, Just Like Heaven, Friday I'm In Love, or all of the above whenever I wear it), because screw uniforms, and nobody said a word-even Malfoy.
Even when the common room slowly cleared out, I stayed downstairs.
Tracey Daphne and Pansy were too worried I'd go into attack mode to bother trying to get me to come up to bed, and Bulstrode-well, Bulstrode didn't really give a damn.
After a while, feeling cold, I moved to the sofa by the fireplace.
It was nearing eleven forty-five when, all of a sudden, a hand shot out of nowhere and tapped me on the shoulder.
I jumped, letting out an embarrassing squeak.
The hand hastily covered my mouth.
"It's me, Potter!" a familiar voice hissed in my ear, "Quit screaming!"
My brief flare of alarm dropped to irritation.
Feeling me relax, the hand cautiously moved away.
When I didn't squeak again, it dropped.
"What the hell, Malfoy?" I spun around, swinging my book.
Malfoy quickly ducked to avoid it.
"Hey! Watch it!"
"Excuse me? You're the one sneaking around-tapping people!"
"I wasn't sneaking-!" he stopped, taking in a sharp breath.
Walking around to stand in front of me, Malfoy crossed his arms and stared me down.
"Why did you and Potter get Nimbus Two Thousands-" he fired off, "why is it somehow okay with the teachers-what did Flitwick mean by McGonagall telling him about the 'special circumstances', and does it have anything to do with why you were doing an impression of an almost well-behaved student in Transfigurations today-why the hell is it 'thanks to me' that you have them...and can I see it?"
That last question especially took me off guard.
It took me a moment to untangle all of that but, when I did, the smirk that followed was decidedly mischievous.
"To answer your first three or four questions," I said, "it's none of your business-Harry said it was thanks to you because, ironically, it is-and sure, I'll let you see my Nimbus, I'll even let you hold it..."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed as he waited for the catch.
"-if you repeat as follows-just for me, I just want the memory," I hummed, mentally scripting what I'd make him say in my head.
Seeing Malfoy scowl and make to retort, I jumped up and covered his mouth.
I won't say it was retaliation for earlier, buuut...
"Uh-uh-do you want to hold my Nimbus Two Thousand, or not?" I mock chided.
Malfoy shoved me away.
"Could you maybe not put your hand over my mouth?"
"First, karma. Also, you do realise," I commented dryly, "that you telling me not to just makes me want to do it more, right?"
He ignored that.
"So, ready?" I taunted, crossing my own arms with a grin.
"You're enjoying this way too much," he muttered.
-I'll take that as a yes.
"Now, repeat after me; 'my name is Draco Malfoy and I'm a stuck-up dingbat. I secretly envy the Weasleys who are bloody brilliant and have people who actually like them, and not just for their daddy's money and connections-I sleep with a stuffed rabbit named Hugsy-I'm totally jealous of Harry Potter and how much attention he gets for being famous-and I'm jealous of Jewel Potter in general because she's awesome, gorgeous, and funny.'Want that in writing?"
Malfoy scowled furiously.
"I am not-"
"Nimbus," I sang evilly.
He groaned.
"Fine! Alright; 'my name is Draco Malfoy and I'm a-stuck-up dingbat-'" he bit out through gritted teeth, glaring at me all the while, "'I secretly envy the Weasley's who are-'" he looked disgusted, "'bloody brilliant and have people who actually like them, and not just for their daddy's money and connections-'" I mimed smiling, and he sneered, "'I sleep with a stuffed rabbit named Hugsy-'" he pulled a slight face, "'I'm totally jealous of Harry Potter and how much attention he gets for being famous-'" he scoffed at that, unable to help himself, "'and I'm jealous of Jewel Potter in general because she's gorgeous-'"
"Don't forget awesome."
"'-awesome gorgeous and funny.'"
I mockingly applauded.
"That was-that was fantastic-it's so brave of you to admit all that-"
"Oh, shut up."
"Okay, stay here-and hold my book-" I shoved my book of Quidditch strategies into his arms. "It's a library book," I added, "so if you damage it in any way I'll beat you with my Nimbus-and Madam Pince'll help."
Foul mood from my argument with Flint being replaced with bubbliness after watching Malfoy knowingly/reluctantly humiliate himself for my entertainment, I practically skipped all the way up the girl's steps.
Pansy Bulstrode Daphne and Tracey were already snoring so I had to sneak in and out, silently retrieving my Nimbus from beneath my bed and tiptoeing back down to the common room.
Malfoy was sitting on the sofa when I arrived.
Spotting the unwrapped broomstick in my hands, he straightened.
"This broom is my new true love-so hurt it, and I'll hurt you," I warned.
A pale eyebrow lifted.
"Your new true love?"
"Closely followed by sleep."
Seeing him move to likely insult me, I cut him off preemptively.
"I know, I'm weird, I never know when to shut my big mouth...actually, I do, I just open it anyway, which is objectively worse-but entertaining, I'm not exactly a 'model student', and my parents are dead-anything else from the peanut gallery, or are we going to get straight down to business?"
Malfoy looked taken aback and, for a second there, I could've sworn he was amused/impressed-but I think that was just wishful thinking.
"Alrighty, now, be careful with my baby-"
I held out my Nimbus Two Thousand and Malfoy putKennilworthy Whisp's lesser-known Quidditch book down on the sofa beside him(he wrote Quidditch Through the Ages-enough said; he's also the author of The Wonder of Wigtown Wanderers, which is the team he supports,and a biography of a famous now-dead player for a Welsh team, the Caerphilly Catapults, "Dangerous" Dai Llewellyn).
He flipped the broomstick around in his hands, examining it.
Seeing his admiration, I sighed dreamily in agreement.
"I know, right? You know-" I clicked my fingers, "that's what I'll call her; Dreamy."
Malfoy looked up at me in disbelief.
"Did you just name your broom?" he deadpanned.
"You sleep with a stuffed bunny named Hugsy?" I sniggered.
He sputtered furiously.
"I don't-You-"
Seeing my smug grin, the blonde huffed, giving up.
"Have you flown it yet?" he asked.
"I was gonna go for a test flight before dinner, but Hagrid was busy so it'll have to wait until tomorrow after classes. He's been supervising me," I added seeing his confusion, "in this paddock near his place. I'd just go to the Quidditch Pitch, but it's almost October-I figure, around this time, the house teams are already booking it up for practices. I've been borrowing school brooms and honing my flying."
"You've been-? Okay, give me a second-" He held up a hand, eyebrows creasing, "Hooch says if anyone is caught flying after she leaves they'll be out of Hogwarts. You and Potter do, and nothing happens. I mean, I checked the hourglasses, you didn't even lose any house points. Next thing anyone knows, you've got a full-on vendetta against the Slytherin team captain. Now, you're sneaking away to some paddock with the school gamekeeper to 'hone your flying' with school brooms and religiously reading handbooks on Quidditch strategy. Why? I mean, it's not like you can even-"
Understanding smacked him in the face.
Malfoy's head shot up.
"Wait, don't tell me you and Potter got permission to go out for the house teams? There's no way-first years aren't even allowed-"
"Even if we did," I interrupted, "I don't really see how that's any of your business."
"'Any of my-'" Malfoy scoffed, incredulous. "Do you not even see how unfair that is?"
"Unfair? Try having Flint refuse to let you even try out for being a girl!" I retorted, refusing to admit he kind of had a point(I'm almost confident that this entire situation only came about because McGonagall is super competitive, not because Harry and I are famous). "Apparently, I wouldn't last five minutes on a Quidditch field-" some of the frustration and indignation I felt welled up, "and he and the rest of the guys on the team would be distracted looking after me-I play coed soccer-I'm my team's main offence back home-during my last match before I left to Hogwarts, I was given a red card for decking a guy-if anyone can handle themselves in a rough game of Quidditch, it's me!"
With an angry huff, I spun around and dropped onto the end of the sofa.
Malfoy looked dumbfounded by my outburst.
"Wait-" he finally said after a minute, snapping out of it as that all sank in, "so you've been harassing Flint for a tryout?"
I grunted and crossed my arms.
"He won't even see you fly, just to shut you up?" he added slowly.
To my surprise, he was frowning.
"He thinks it's a waste of his time," I spat bitterly.
"And you chasing him around the castle trying to fight him isn't?" Malfoy snorted loudly. "Honestly, with your temper, he should be more worried about the other players setting you off. I can see it now; 'first year Slytherin student arrested after beating rival Quidditch players to death with broomstick, acquitted for being Jewel Potter, Wizarding community in upheaval-when will this maniac redhead strike next-'"
I stuck out my tongue, and he smirked slightly.
"Seriously though," he said, "after what you did at flying practice, Flint would have to be an idiot not to-"
Realising he was about to compliment me, Malfoy abruptly stopped.
My head jerked up.
"Were you about to say that Flint would be an idiot not to add me to the team?" I blurted.
"No," Malfoy said vehemently, face going pink. "I was about to say-that is-quit grinning at me like that!"
I just grinned wider.
"You think I'm an asset," I sang tauntingly.
"I really don't."
"You think I should be on the Quidditch team-"
"Potter-"
"You think I'd be a good player-"
"I think you should shut up-"
"You think I should shut up-"
"Oh, for god's sake!"
Satisfied that I'd sufficiently annoyed him, I let up.
(privately, I think I let him off the hook mainly because he thought I would be an asset to the Slytherin Quidditch team and agreed that Flint was being an idiot-not that I care what Malfoy thinks, obviously-).
"I should go pass out or I'll never get up tomorrow-" I sighed, standing up and holding out my hand. "Dreamy me."
Malfoy handed me my Nimbus, just relieved that I'd shut up.
His face was still a bit pink.
"Night, Malfoy!"
I could almost swear, as I crossed the common room, that I heard him murmur, "Goodnight, Potter."
Sure I imagined it, I just shrugged and headed upstairs.
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
On Saturday, I spent the morning doing homework with Hermione(because I'd been so busy with Quidditch I'd been putting it off and she threatened to hide my Nimbus if I didn't; I don't know how she'd manage it but, knowing Hermione, I didn't want to chance it). That afternoon, I was in the paddock by Hagrid's practising Quidditch tactics I read about in Quidditch Through the Ages and Beating the Bludgers - A Study of Defensive Strategies in Quidditch, among other flying-related texts I had found in the school library. I hadn't really decided what position I wanted to play, but I'd sort of assumed Flint would put me as Slytherin Seeker-even if I'm more athletic than small and fast. Maybe even Chaser or Keeper.
There are three Chasers; they're the ones that score the goals.
Trying to imagine myself as a Chaser, all I could picture was going for the hoops only to accidentally throw the Quaffle backwards.
Take two, my arm flings out weirdly and the Quaffle flies into the stands, concussing an innocent spectator.
Take three, hits someone dead in the face-now they've got a broken nose, and I've got a plastic surgery bill-
...maybe not Chaser.
Keepers are basically just like goalies in soccer(and, like in soccer, there's only one per team)-which I think I can probably manage without causing too much irreparable harm to the people in my general radius.
I'd already been working on my Sloth Grip Roll(hanging upside down off your broom to avoid Bludgers), and even the Starfish and Stick(a Keeper defence where you hold onto your broom with one hand and foot while keeping all limbs outstretched)and Wollongong Shimmy(a high-speed zigzag movement to throw off opposing Chasers)-so, on the assumption I'd probably end up being Harry's rival Seeker, I'd been trying to do the Wronski Feint or, at least, something close to it for my skill level. Basically, you dive, making the opposing Seeker think you've seen the Snitch, then pull up at the last second-presumably with the aim of the other Seeker colliding with the ground. It had quickly become my second favourite move; right behind the Transylvanian Tackle(which gives you free rein to 'punch' as many people in the nose as you want, as long as your fist doesn't make contact).
Hagrid had just gone inside to prepare snacks and tea, having suggested a break seeing as I've been at it for hours-which is probably for the best. Every time I get close to hitting the ground, he jumps hard enough to shake the heavens(or simulate a level three earthquake-)and covers his eyes.
"I can't look-this has teh be bad fer me heart-"
He wasn't this squeamish when I practised the Starfish and Stick tactic, and I had to hang off my broom by an arm and a leg-he's like a fretting mother hen. How I was ever briefly intimidated by this man is beyond me.
Without having to pull up early, startled by Hagrid moaning about 'not being able to look', I flew high up above the trees to have another go.
And, as I did, completely missed the two boys sneaking over to stand by the paddock gate.
Taking a steadying breath, I reached back to tighten my ponytail before gripping my Nimbus' handle and setting my jaw.
I dove.
Wind rushed past my face and, as the ground rapidly came at me, I felt that same rush of exhilaration I felt the first time I hopped onto one of those godawful school brooms to go after Malfoy and Neville's...I wanna say Demerol? Wait, isn't that that painkiller women sometimes take when they're in labour? Where'd I get Demerol from-? As soon as I was a couple of inches from the ground, with no Hagrid standing by the fence freaking out on me, I pulled up and skidded across the air-
And promptly fell backwards with a shriek.
I hit the ground, hard, and rolled a couple of times.
"Shit!"
It took me a minute to get my bearings, chest heaving as I caught my breath.
Suddenly, I threw back my head and laughed breathlessly.
"Ha! Didn't die-take that, Wronski Feint-!" I cheered, fist-pumping.
Climbing back to my feet, I dusted myself off and took stock.
I had a few scrapes, a graze on my left leg that had small beads of blood and stung like a bitch, grass stains and dirt on my clothes, and I'll bruise like hell later on the arm that hit the ground first-but, otherwise, I was fine.
"Come on, Dreamy-let's go again before Hagrid sees I'm hurt-"
Grabbing my broom from where it had rolled in the opposite direction, I quickly slid back on, not noticing the Slytherins gawking at me from the fence.
I was about to take off when someone called my name.
And, being my oh-so 'elegant' self, I, of course, jumped so high that I fell back over again, as all elegant people do.
-I'm honestly just amazed that I didn't end up accidentally throwing my Nimbus Two Thousand across the paddock.
Hearing a loud laugh-a very familiar laugh-I snapped around to see Malfoy in hysterics by the fence with an amused-looking boy I didn't recognise.
"Malfoy? What the-?"
The dark-haired teenager gestured me over.
While being completely confounded, I grabbed Dreamy before scrambling to my feet and making my way to the fence.
"That was a nasty fall, Potter," he said, impressed as he took in the bloody graze on my leg and my grass and dirt-stained shirt and shorts.
"You thought that was nasty?" I snorted. "Please, I haven't even broken anything."
His eyebrows shot up.
Malfoy stopped laughing.
"How on earth is Flint worried you'd be a liability?" Malfoy wondered in disbelief.
"He's never seen me fly-" I deadpanned, "he probably thinks I'll break a nail and start dramatically sobbing or something-I'm also fairly convinced he's never met a girl before, so he's only got stereotypes to work off-"
"Flint is an idiot," the dark-haired boy said seriously.
I looked over at him, surprised.
"Adrian Pucey-third year-" he added, holding out a hand, "I'm on the Slytherin team-Chaser-"
As I slowly shook his hand, I glanced between him and Malfoy.
"What did you say you were doing here again?"
"We didn't," Malfoy said.
"Then start," I sassed.
Pucey smirked.
"I like her-she's feisty," he informed Malfoy.
Malfoy pulled a face.
"Anyway, Malfoy came up to me-" Pucey began.
"We were just walking by when we saw you-" Malfoy said quickly at the same time.
Pucey stopped, arching an eyebrow at the uncomfortable-looking blonde.
Looking between them, I suddenly knew what had happened.
I stared at Malfoy, speechless.
The day after my Nimbus Two Thousand arrived, Malfoy snuck down to spy on me while I practised-and was taken off guard when he saw how hard I was pushing myself...and how good I actually am. Impulsively, he asked around about who was currently on the Slytherin team and, after sizing them all up, decided that Pucey would be my best bet-so, he cornered him after lunch...and convinced him to come see me fly, if Flint won't, and practically dragged him here.
A pink rubber band snapped, twice.
"Wait...Malfoy, did you bring Pucey here to-help me?"
In his discomfort, the blonde's face went pink.
"Look, I don't like you, but I want Slytherin to win. It's as simple as that. You don't...suck-" he grimaced, ignoring my wry expression, "and besides, if Gryffindor and your stupid brother get to break the first year rule, then why shouldn't we?"
-yeah, that makes more sense.
"I don't have enough sway to get you a tryout," Pucey said, looking at me consideringly, "but I can back you with Flint, and give you our plays to memorize-and help you practice. Not that you need the help, from what I just saw."
My face deadpanned.
"I fell."
"Impressively."
I snorted a laugh and Pucey grinned.
After a moment, I sobered.
"Thanks-really," I said sincerely, glancing slightly at Malfoy.
Malfoy tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away.
His ears were still pink.
"No problem," Pucey replied, still grinning. "I want Slytherin to win, too."
It was a week into October when I finally gave up on Flint voluntarily seeing me fly.
Whenever he found the time, Pucey would join me and Hagrid at our paddock with plays Flint had come up with(most of them brutal-and skirting the edge of illegal)and give me Quidditch tips. I even think I saw McGonagall stop by one afternoon, but I was so focused on flying that I wasn't paying attention to what was happening on the ground. I'd been eating, sleeping, breathing Quidditch-and it still wasn't good enough. Pucey even told Flint about my 'nasty fall', and how I laughed in the face of it-and my injuries-and just got back on my Nimbus, but he wouldn't listen.
I doubt he even believes it happened.
Pucey agreed that I needed a new plan.
In the end, we decided to lose any and all subtly and do a full-on sneak attack.
Pucey snuck me the Slytherin team practice schedule and left me to it.
That Sunday, an hour after lunch, I made my way down to the Quidditch Pitch.
Hopping onto Dreamy, I took off into the sky to wait.
The second I saw seven teenage boys, all dressed in green and silver Quidditch robes, making their way onto the field I abruptly went into a steep dive and started to spin and zig-zag impressively in the air.
It was Pucey's idea.
If Flint wouldn't come see me, I'd just go to him.
I did whatever I could think of to show off; flying upside down and backwards while still being upside down(my version of the Sloth Grip Roll), several practised and rather theatrical twirls and flips(both forwards and backwards), before doing another nose-dive-this time, heading straight for the rapidly approaching ground. Knowing my limitations, I pulled up a bit sooner than I do when I practice on my own(or with Hagrid and Pucey), skidding across the air with a breathless laugh. As soon as I stopped skidding, I swung around mid-air and dove elegantly the rest of the way to the ground, smoothly throwing one leg over my broomstick and landing on my feet. And, just to show off some more, I made sure I'd land right in front of Flint.
Flint, and the rest of the guys on the team, were astonished.
Pucey bit back a grin and shot me a furtive thumbs-up.
"Flint," I greeted cheerfully.
"Holy shit-"he sputtered.
"I told you," I said smugly, looking the stunned boy dead in the eye, "I'm the best. I know for a fact that I'm a more talented flier than anyone on this team, even you-" I stopped myself from glancing at Pucey, who had been the one to tell me as much, "I could fly circles around your entire team in any position. All you have to do is get over yourself and let me prove it. And if I end up being a liability-" I refrained from rolling my eyes, "then chuck me off the team, I don't care-but don't discriminate against me just because I don't look like I can take a hit, or because of my gender. Not unless you want to lose. Or get knocked on your ass."
Flint looked at me consideringly, a flash of greed and genuine interest appearing in his eyes.
And, at that moment, I knew he'd finally realised how much of an asset I actually am.
Then, a hint of malice crossed his face.
"Any position?" he said.
I instantly knew where his mind had jumped.
-I probably shouldn't of driven him so mad the past couple of weeks.
"Even Beater?"
There are two Beaters per team.
Their job is to take on these two black iron balls called 'Bludgers' that are bewitched to knock players off their broomsticks.
The Beaters have bats, which they use to protect their teammates(and send the Bludgers flying at the opposing team).
Beaters need to be well-built and have a lot of arm strength-to continuously smash Bludgers for hours on end-and good balance(sometimes, they need to take both hands off their brooms).
As you can imagine, it's dangerous as hell.
"'Beater?'" Pucey repeated in shock. "Wait, come on, Flint-"
"Fine," I said as I tilted up my chin. "I'll play Beater."
They all looked taken aback.
"What?" Flint blurted. "I mean, uh, right, sure-Higgs, go get the Bludgers from the sports shed."
The seventh year hurried away.
"Potter-" Pucey looked at me warily.
"Don't worry, Pucey-I've got this," I assured him, refusing to back down.
I knew from experience that, the second I do, I'll lose all respect with the rest of them-and may as well kiss joining the team bye-bye. As stupid and reckless as it probably is, the only way to get them to stop thinking but she's a girl was to dig in my heels and go get pummelled to death by Bludgers.
"That's reassuring-" Pucey muttered sarcastically, "You've got this. I'll remember that for when your loved ones ask what happened when they're called up to the castle because the Bludger killed you."
Ignoring him, I held out a hand to Flint.
"Bat me."
He looked over his shoulder.
"Walsh-"
A heavyset boy with a nasty smirk handed over his bat.
Flint handed it to me.
"This'll be fun to watch," the other Beater, a stockier boy with muddy brown hair, commented with a snigger.
"A bit of entertainment before practice-good thinking, Flint," another boy agreed mean-spiritedly.
I just set my jaw and ignored them.
Higgs returned with a large wooden crate.
Glancing at me, he looked as uncomfortable with all of this as Pucey.
Flint walked over and clicked open the crate.
Inside were four different sized balls; a tiny gold metal one, the Golden Snitch, a red leather one I recognised as the Quaffle, and a pair of identical jet black ones that were slightly smaller than the red one-the Bludgers.
They were already straining against their restraints to escape.
"You know how this works, right?"
"I've memorized Quidditch Through the Ages, so I better," I shot back dryly, twirling the bat in my hand.
"Everyone stand back-" Flint called over to his team before turning back to me, "Potter, you better get up in the air, fast."
Tightening my ponytail, I mounted by Nimbus.
As soon as I was in the sky, a malicious and slightly triumphant smirk took over Flint's face as he unclicked both Bludgers' restraints.
In a flash, they rocketed up into the air.
"Flint!" Pucey exclaimed in horror. "She can't handle both of them by herself-"
Flint ignored him, straightening up and crossing his arms.
Seeing theBludgers rushing at me, I sped away in the opposite direction(not as thrown as Flint no doubt expected me to be, seeing as I'd kind of seen this coming, I mean-Flint isn't exactly subtle, you know?-), twisting my body and spinning in the air to avoid getting my head taken off.
The Bludgers swung back around.
I dodged again before weaving up and down the field.
Determination blazing in my green eyes, I swerved around the three tall hoops on my end of the field and dove sharply, zig-zagging, pivoting, and cartwheeling to keep from being knocked out of the sky.
Down below, Pucey wolf-whistled.
"Damn. Show those Bludgers who's boss, Potter!"
I ducked as one of the Bludgers shot dangerously over my head.
"I thought you were against this!"
"I'm trying to be supportive in your last moments on earth!"
I snorted loudly.
I focused on evasive manoeuvres for a couple of minutes, just while I was getting my bearings, before I adjusted the bat in my hand and flew doggedly to put some distance between me and those Bludgers.
The second I had some space to breathe, I swung around and aimed, eyes narrowing dangerously.
Even if I break my wrist, I refused to run away.
Because, for the next couple of minutes, I was a bleepin' Beater-and I'd be one, even if it killed me.
...Maybe I should stop hanging out with Gryffindors-they're rubbing off on me in a bad way.
As soon as one of the Bludgers came at me I took both hands off my Nimbus, steadied myself, rose my bat, aimed, and swung-
With a resounding crack, it shot backwards-and, to my shock, managed to smack into the other Bludger and send them both flying.
After staring at me stupidly for a moment, Pucey started cheering.
Surprisingly, Higgs and the other Chaser joined in.
"Flint-did you see that?" I heard the mean-spirited boy exclaim, "She hit both of them at the same time!"
Grinning with renewed confidence, I pretended I totally meant for that to happen and flew off.
I focused on hitting the Bludgers with both hands-on my bat, not 'Rocky'-style; nothing too fancy or show-offy(despite what Malfoy thinks, I'm not an idiot; it'd be stupid to attempt to do it one-handedly without training, or to try out theBludger Backbeat-a Quidditch tactic involving backhanding Bludgers that's hard to pull off with any precision but usually confuses the opposition; I'm pretty much just relying on arm strength, which I have an unexpected amount of for an eleven-year-old girl my size, luck, and eleven years of repressed redheaded rage).
The show-offy bitcame from my mad flying skills.
That I was happy to show off.
A lot.
Like, I've done so many mid-air flips that I'm kinda dizzy.
Flying closer to the ground with a Bludger on my heels, I twisted into a backflip, went right over it, then smashed it across the field from behind.
"Ha! Take that-"
Suddenly, I was hit hard in the back and, breath catching in my throat, found myself pitching headfirst off my Nimbus.
Because I was so winded, I couldn't even find the air to scream.
My head hit the ground as I collided with the pitch.
"Jewel!"
A blur rushed past me and, looking up in shock through the burst of pain radiating in my back and face(and my arm, which I also managed to land on-again), I spotted Pucey grabbing the Bludger-which had swung back to finish me off. Higgs hastily sprinted over to help catch the other one.
When that failed, the Beaters scrambled to help.
Rolling onto my front, I leant up on my elbows with a huff. I could tell, just from wincing, that I had a nasty graze on the side of my face.
My back was definitely bruised.
As soon as they'd sorted out the Bludgers, Higgs Pucey Flint Walsh and the Slytherin Keeper and other Chaser and Beater rushed over to where I was laying in the grass catching my breath.
"Shit, Potter, are you okay?" Pucey blurted.
I looked up at them and, to their stupefaction and incredulity, spat out some dirt and blood and started laughing.
"That was insane," I breathed.
"You might be insane," Pucey corrected in disbelief. "And concussed."
"Oh, I definitely am-insane, not concussed-I mean, I sorta wanna do that again-"
He stared at me.
Then, taking me off guard, Flint took a step forwards and offered me a hand.
"So," he said, looking down at me with newfound respect, "what were you saying about your tryouts?"
I grinned wildly.