The Slytherin team, led by Marcus Flint, were utterly confident in their ability to win the upcoming Quidditch match against Gryffindor. "So what if they've got some Wonderboy first year on their team? The Gryffindors are washed up! Wood's a fanatic! We can smash them." The Common Room erupted into cheers, and Guin clapped appreciatively. Malfoy in particular was acting smug; he seemed to have an irrational hatred of Potter, and looked forward to seeing him humiliated in front of the whole school. Many of the Slytherins seemed to enjoy cornering Potter in the hallways and telling him they'd be laughing when he broke all of his limbs. Guin, for one, thought it was very childish, and said nothing.
Guin and L'Argent found out exactly what the commotion had been on Halloween. Apparently, Potter and the youngest Weasley had locked the troll in a bathroom, which was unfortunately occupied by Hermione Granger. They had knocked the thing out, though the teachers had caught them. With a sigh of relief, Guin realized exactly how close she had come to being in quite a bit of trouble. The three-headed dog, if it was indeed Cerberus, was pushed to the back of her mind as she concentrated on classes and keeping warm.
Guin was not at all fond of the cold, and it was a particularly chilly November. Icy blasts of wind wracked through the entrance hall, and Snape's class was positively drafty. She took to wearing at least two layers; a sweatshirt and underneath her robes, sometimes accompanied by a scarf. L'Argent mocked her mercilessly, and Guin gave him her haughtiest glare in reply. She wasn't sure if he grew tired of making fun of the clothes ("You look like an Eskimo.") or if the glower had managed to cow him into submission, but was grateful for the respite.
Around ten forty-five, the Slytherins trooped up to the Quidditch field, many of them dressed in green. Guin searched for a good seat, and ended up in the next-highest row, in front of Neville, Hermione, and Ron Weasley. Ron glared at her, noting the Slytherin emblem pinned on her robe, but Guin shrugged and took her place in between Rilla and L'Argent. "One comment about the scarf," she warned him, "And they'll find bits of your innards on top of the Quidditch goalpost."
Surprisingly, L'Argent had turned out to be a decent artist – no, he was an excellent artist. The boy had drawn on a huge sheet the rearing sinuous form of the Slytherin Serpent. The Gryffindors' banner, she saw, flashed different colors – they had one-upped the Slytherins; but no matter. Guin was quite confident that their team would win. Settling into a seat next to Rilla, she glanced down at the field. "They should be starting soon, shouldn't they?" Indeed, Madam Hooch was making her way out onto the Quidditch arena, followed by a clump of people in scarlet and a clump of people in virulent green.
She seemed to be talking to them, but the words Guin could not make out. Leaning forward in her seat, she watched closely as each team took to their brooms and kicked off when Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle. Lee Jordan's amplified voice echoed over the crowd. "And the Quaffle is take immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –" He was cut off by Professor McGonagall's protests, and Rilla and Guin snickered to each other. After that, she ignored Lee's voice and concentrated on what was actually happening in the game.
Johnson soared towards the other end of the field, Quaffle tucked securely under her arm. Flint and the other Slytherin Chasers ran clever patterns around her, forcing the girl to pass the ball to her teammate Alicia Spinnet. The team in green, still making it difficult for the Gryffindors to execute an offensive maneuver, forced the girl to pass back to Johnson. And then – yes! Flint had stolen the Quaffle away, and instantly tore towards the other end of the field. For a moment, Guin thought he was going to score the first goal of the game, and apparently so did Jordan, but Wood blocked it easily and Bell swerved around him, towards the Slytherin end.
A Bludger thumped Bell in the back of her head, and the Slytherins erupted into catcalls. "Watch it, Bell!" "Oh no, did poor baby drop the Quaffle?" The Gryffindors seethed, but were vindicated as another of the heavy black circles smacked Adrian Pucey in the stomach and almost knocked him off the broom. Johnson regained possession of the Quaffle and flew it skillfully back towards Bletchley – damn! He missed it and the Quaffle was thrown through one of the goals.
Rilla glanced sideways at her friend, amused. Guin, normally self-contained was hopping up and down in her seat like a maniac, face bright red as she screamed exhortations at Angelina Johnson. Hiding a smirk, Rilla pulled her back down into the seat. "Calm yourself, Guin, you wouldn't want to break a blood vessel before the game's over!" Guin glowered at her, but was diverted as the giant gamekeeper clambered into the row behind them.
"Budge up there, move along," he was saying to Hermione.
"Hagrid!"
That reminded her. Guin scanned the skies again, searching for Potter, who drifted aimlessly above the field. Every now and then, he did a tricky little looping, causing her to roll her eyes and mutter, "Showoff." At one point, the two Seekers caught sight of the Snitch, it looked as though Potter was going to get it, but then Flint flew in front of him, jarring the smaller athlete. "Attaboy, Flint!" Guin yelled, waving her fists in the air as Madam Hooch awarded a penalty. "For that?" Guin demanded, furious. "That happens all the time!"
The Gryffindors, including Rilla, were muttering angrily, though Spinnet had easily scored on the penalty goal. Lee Jordan and McGonagall had a small fight about impartial judging, and Lee continued sulkily. "Pucey with the Quaffle, passes to Flint – intercepted by Bell, passes to Johnson – Johnson, flying fast, hit by a Bludger – damn. Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherins score – oh, no.."
Suddenly, people were pointing and gasping in shock and worry. What was going on? At first, Guin couldn't tell, but then Rilla grasped her arm tightly and held out a hand towards the sky. "Look! Omigosh, Harry's lost control of his broom!" Indeed, in the air, the tiny scarlet figure of Harry Potter was pitched violently over and over, before the rolling broom managed to jerk him off: the boy now held on only by one hand. Guin and Rilla hopped from their seats, open mouthed, and L'Argent exclaimed some words that most likely would have made his mother wash out his mouth with soap. "What's wrong with his broom?" Guin demanded, "That's a Nimbus Two Thousand, that is. And new! It shouldn't do that at all .. !"
There were shrieks of panic from the crowd as the broom attempted to shake Potter from it. The Weasley twins circled beneath him; their efforts to pull the boy from the broom were basically useless, for every time they drew close, it moved away. Finally they settled for catching him if he fell. That, too, proved unnecessary. Hermione had sprinted off somewhere, but Guin didn't notice. Her eyes were focused on Potter, who was frantically trying to right himself. Suddenly, the broom calmed and he clambered onto it. He flew swiftly to the ground – and – coughed up the Snitch.
Rilla shrieked in glee. "WE WON! WE WON! AND HE'S NOT DEAD!"
Guin and L'Argent sulked, glaring at Rilla. She stopped screaming long enough to peer curiously at them. "What?" Green and silver eyes met for a moment and rolled identically, before looking away in a hasty fashion after they realized what had happened. Flint attempted to argue the outcome, but even Guin had to admit that the Gryffindors had won fairly, and there was nothing that could be done about it. With a sigh, she trudged away from the Quidditch field.
"I can't believe we lost," she bemoaned to Blaise and another Slytherin girl, Jessica.
"Too bad Harry didn't really fall off the broom!" Blaise said, and caught their looks. "I was joking, joking!"
The Slytherin Common Rooms were not a pleasant place to be if you were a member of the Quidditch team: grousing and complaints were the order of the day. Malfoy, in particular, seemed quite put out, he had been counting on being able to mock Potter for the dramatic loss the Gryffindors supposedly would have suffered. In Potions especially he was free to make digs at the boy, for Snape let inter-House rivalry go on, at least if it was the Slytherins doing the rivalry.
Rilla and Guin walked outside, but the curly-haired girl seemed unusually quiet. "What's wrong, Ril?" Guin asked.
"It's nothing."
"No, you're not normally this quiet."
"You'll laugh at me, Guin."
"You know I wouldn't do that."
"Oh.. all right. You know that last Quidditch match?"
"Yeah."
"Well when we were leaving.. I.. I felt like there was someone watching me."
Perplexed, Guin glanced sideways at her. "Watching you?"
"I don't know how to describe it. But it was like this feeling that something was staring at me. It was really creepy.."
"Why didn't you say anything about that before?"
"You're always so brave, and I thought that you'd think I was a coward." The round face stared up at her in consternation.
Quite surprised, Guin blinked at her. "Brave? Me? I'm not brave! But Ril, I wouldn't make fun of you, you should know that. If you thought someone was watching you, I believe it. Tell me if it happens again, and we'll .. borrow some of L'Argent's Hardy Boys books and investigate. Okay?"
Rilla cracked a smile and nodded. "Sure.. oh, I better go. I have a Transfiguration lesson now."
Moping a bit, Guin wandered towards the pond, lost in thought. The steely-gray surface was a bit rough, but she stared into it anyway, completely oblivious to the world around her. Sitting down on the ground, she trailed her hand in the chilly water, tracing spirals with her fingers until they grew too numb to bear. Pulling away, she sucked on her scarlet, raw skin, attempting to put some warmth into it. Abruptly, she saw something in the water that caused her to bite her hand accidentally: two icy blue eyes appeared on the surface, and then a cerulean head and pale-skinned shoulders arose after.
"Aua!" Guin said, nursing her now-bleeding middle finger.
"I haven't much time," Aua said, looking worried. "I bring warnings of evil tidings: trust not the friendly face, it may hide a poison deadly to those you love." And she dove back into the water, and disappeared. Not sure what to make of this cryptic warning, Guin stared at the water silently, lightly brushing a finger over the blood on her palm.
Guin and L'Argent found out exactly what the commotion had been on Halloween. Apparently, Potter and the youngest Weasley had locked the troll in a bathroom, which was unfortunately occupied by Hermione Granger. They had knocked the thing out, though the teachers had caught them. With a sigh of relief, Guin realized exactly how close she had come to being in quite a bit of trouble. The three-headed dog, if it was indeed Cerberus, was pushed to the back of her mind as she concentrated on classes and keeping warm.
Guin was not at all fond of the cold, and it was a particularly chilly November. Icy blasts of wind wracked through the entrance hall, and Snape's class was positively drafty. She took to wearing at least two layers; a sweatshirt and underneath her robes, sometimes accompanied by a scarf. L'Argent mocked her mercilessly, and Guin gave him her haughtiest glare in reply. She wasn't sure if he grew tired of making fun of the clothes ("You look like an Eskimo.") or if the glower had managed to cow him into submission, but was grateful for the respite.
Around ten forty-five, the Slytherins trooped up to the Quidditch field, many of them dressed in green. Guin searched for a good seat, and ended up in the next-highest row, in front of Neville, Hermione, and Ron Weasley. Ron glared at her, noting the Slytherin emblem pinned on her robe, but Guin shrugged and took her place in between Rilla and L'Argent. "One comment about the scarf," she warned him, "And they'll find bits of your innards on top of the Quidditch goalpost."
Surprisingly, L'Argent had turned out to be a decent artist – no, he was an excellent artist. The boy had drawn on a huge sheet the rearing sinuous form of the Slytherin Serpent. The Gryffindors' banner, she saw, flashed different colors – they had one-upped the Slytherins; but no matter. Guin was quite confident that their team would win. Settling into a seat next to Rilla, she glanced down at the field. "They should be starting soon, shouldn't they?" Indeed, Madam Hooch was making her way out onto the Quidditch arena, followed by a clump of people in scarlet and a clump of people in virulent green.
She seemed to be talking to them, but the words Guin could not make out. Leaning forward in her seat, she watched closely as each team took to their brooms and kicked off when Madam Hooch blew her silver whistle. Lee Jordan's amplified voice echoed over the crowd. "And the Quaffle is take immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor – what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too –" He was cut off by Professor McGonagall's protests, and Rilla and Guin snickered to each other. After that, she ignored Lee's voice and concentrated on what was actually happening in the game.
Johnson soared towards the other end of the field, Quaffle tucked securely under her arm. Flint and the other Slytherin Chasers ran clever patterns around her, forcing the girl to pass the ball to her teammate Alicia Spinnet. The team in green, still making it difficult for the Gryffindors to execute an offensive maneuver, forced the girl to pass back to Johnson. And then – yes! Flint had stolen the Quaffle away, and instantly tore towards the other end of the field. For a moment, Guin thought he was going to score the first goal of the game, and apparently so did Jordan, but Wood blocked it easily and Bell swerved around him, towards the Slytherin end.
A Bludger thumped Bell in the back of her head, and the Slytherins erupted into catcalls. "Watch it, Bell!" "Oh no, did poor baby drop the Quaffle?" The Gryffindors seethed, but were vindicated as another of the heavy black circles smacked Adrian Pucey in the stomach and almost knocked him off the broom. Johnson regained possession of the Quaffle and flew it skillfully back towards Bletchley – damn! He missed it and the Quaffle was thrown through one of the goals.
Rilla glanced sideways at her friend, amused. Guin, normally self-contained was hopping up and down in her seat like a maniac, face bright red as she screamed exhortations at Angelina Johnson. Hiding a smirk, Rilla pulled her back down into the seat. "Calm yourself, Guin, you wouldn't want to break a blood vessel before the game's over!" Guin glowered at her, but was diverted as the giant gamekeeper clambered into the row behind them.
"Budge up there, move along," he was saying to Hermione.
"Hagrid!"
That reminded her. Guin scanned the skies again, searching for Potter, who drifted aimlessly above the field. Every now and then, he did a tricky little looping, causing her to roll her eyes and mutter, "Showoff." At one point, the two Seekers caught sight of the Snitch, it looked as though Potter was going to get it, but then Flint flew in front of him, jarring the smaller athlete. "Attaboy, Flint!" Guin yelled, waving her fists in the air as Madam Hooch awarded a penalty. "For that?" Guin demanded, furious. "That happens all the time!"
The Gryffindors, including Rilla, were muttering angrily, though Spinnet had easily scored on the penalty goal. Lee Jordan and McGonagall had a small fight about impartial judging, and Lee continued sulkily. "Pucey with the Quaffle, passes to Flint – intercepted by Bell, passes to Johnson – Johnson, flying fast, hit by a Bludger – damn. Slytherin in possession – Flint with the Quaffle – passes Spinnet – passes Bell – hit hard in the face by a Bludger, hope it broke his nose – only joking, Professor – Slytherins score – oh, no.."
Suddenly, people were pointing and gasping in shock and worry. What was going on? At first, Guin couldn't tell, but then Rilla grasped her arm tightly and held out a hand towards the sky. "Look! Omigosh, Harry's lost control of his broom!" Indeed, in the air, the tiny scarlet figure of Harry Potter was pitched violently over and over, before the rolling broom managed to jerk him off: the boy now held on only by one hand. Guin and Rilla hopped from their seats, open mouthed, and L'Argent exclaimed some words that most likely would have made his mother wash out his mouth with soap. "What's wrong with his broom?" Guin demanded, "That's a Nimbus Two Thousand, that is. And new! It shouldn't do that at all .. !"
There were shrieks of panic from the crowd as the broom attempted to shake Potter from it. The Weasley twins circled beneath him; their efforts to pull the boy from the broom were basically useless, for every time they drew close, it moved away. Finally they settled for catching him if he fell. That, too, proved unnecessary. Hermione had sprinted off somewhere, but Guin didn't notice. Her eyes were focused on Potter, who was frantically trying to right himself. Suddenly, the broom calmed and he clambered onto it. He flew swiftly to the ground – and – coughed up the Snitch.
Rilla shrieked in glee. "WE WON! WE WON! AND HE'S NOT DEAD!"
Guin and L'Argent sulked, glaring at Rilla. She stopped screaming long enough to peer curiously at them. "What?" Green and silver eyes met for a moment and rolled identically, before looking away in a hasty fashion after they realized what had happened. Flint attempted to argue the outcome, but even Guin had to admit that the Gryffindors had won fairly, and there was nothing that could be done about it. With a sigh, she trudged away from the Quidditch field.
"I can't believe we lost," she bemoaned to Blaise and another Slytherin girl, Jessica.
"Too bad Harry didn't really fall off the broom!" Blaise said, and caught their looks. "I was joking, joking!"
The Slytherin Common Rooms were not a pleasant place to be if you were a member of the Quidditch team: grousing and complaints were the order of the day. Malfoy, in particular, seemed quite put out, he had been counting on being able to mock Potter for the dramatic loss the Gryffindors supposedly would have suffered. In Potions especially he was free to make digs at the boy, for Snape let inter-House rivalry go on, at least if it was the Slytherins doing the rivalry.
Rilla and Guin walked outside, but the curly-haired girl seemed unusually quiet. "What's wrong, Ril?" Guin asked.
"It's nothing."
"No, you're not normally this quiet."
"You'll laugh at me, Guin."
"You know I wouldn't do that."
"Oh.. all right. You know that last Quidditch match?"
"Yeah."
"Well when we were leaving.. I.. I felt like there was someone watching me."
Perplexed, Guin glanced sideways at her. "Watching you?"
"I don't know how to describe it. But it was like this feeling that something was staring at me. It was really creepy.."
"Why didn't you say anything about that before?"
"You're always so brave, and I thought that you'd think I was a coward." The round face stared up at her in consternation.
Quite surprised, Guin blinked at her. "Brave? Me? I'm not brave! But Ril, I wouldn't make fun of you, you should know that. If you thought someone was watching you, I believe it. Tell me if it happens again, and we'll .. borrow some of L'Argent's Hardy Boys books and investigate. Okay?"
Rilla cracked a smile and nodded. "Sure.. oh, I better go. I have a Transfiguration lesson now."
Moping a bit, Guin wandered towards the pond, lost in thought. The steely-gray surface was a bit rough, but she stared into it anyway, completely oblivious to the world around her. Sitting down on the ground, she trailed her hand in the chilly water, tracing spirals with her fingers until they grew too numb to bear. Pulling away, she sucked on her scarlet, raw skin, attempting to put some warmth into it. Abruptly, she saw something in the water that caused her to bite her hand accidentally: two icy blue eyes appeared on the surface, and then a cerulean head and pale-skinned shoulders arose after.
"Aua!" Guin said, nursing her now-bleeding middle finger.
"I haven't much time," Aua said, looking worried. "I bring warnings of evil tidings: trust not the friendly face, it may hide a poison deadly to those you love." And she dove back into the water, and disappeared. Not sure what to make of this cryptic warning, Guin stared at the water silently, lightly brushing a finger over the blood on her palm.