That Saturday was the Slytherin/Ravenclaw Quidditch match. All thoughts of the Chamber of Secrets seemed to have flown from Bruce's mind as he sat with the rest of the team, munching bacon and sharing in the hearty pre-game banter that Marcus Flint always used to "psych them up".
"They're such boys," said Melissa in disgust, as Uther and Warrington engaged in a contest to see who could get more toast into their mouth at one time.
An owl fluttered in and dropped a letter right onto Beth's bagel. She tore it open. "It's from Mrs. Scamander!" she exclaimed delightedly. "'Dear Beth, We're glad that school is going well, hope final exams are good' ... blah blah ... now Mr. Scamander is writing ... 'I'm sorry that I cannot answer your bonus question, to my knowledge there is no bird in existence that has the ability to Petrify a human, let alone such a bird with scarlet feathers'." Beth's face fell.
At the same time, Melissa's practically lit up.
"Mr. Scamander? Not Newt Scamander? The guy who wrote our Care of Magical Creatures textbook?!?"
"That's him."
"But -- how --?"
Beth grinned. Melissa was the one who was interested in hobnobbing with famous witches and wizards. It was unusual that it was the other way around. "He lives down the road from me."
Melissa clutched her chest and fell backwards into her chair. "And you never told me! I don't believe it!"
"Yeah, well, it didn't do much good, did it?" Beth said dejectedly. "There's not a fantastic creature that's been discovered that Mr. Scamander doesn't know about."
"Maybe Kettleburn --" Melissa began.
"If Mr. Scamander doesn't know, Kettleburn sure won't," said Beth. "Trust me. Besides," she added, "we'd have to explain how we know it's a bird, and that would get messy."
Melissa shrugged. "Mervin could just amend his memory. I hear he's good at that," she added wickedly.
Hagrid had looked confused for days after the venture into the Forbidden Forest.
By now both teams had gone off to get ready, and most of the school was starting to head out to the Quidditch pitch. It wasn't a bad day for it; now that April had come, the grass was soft and new, and the winter chill sometimes slipped away in the springtime sun.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to today's Quidditch match: Ravenclaw versus Slytherin!" crowed Lee Jordan from the press box. The players came out and started swooping around the field to thunderous cheers and, as always, muted boos and hisses from the Ravenclaw fans. A good three-fourths of the stadium sided with Ravenclaw on this one; unsurprisingly, Beth thought, since everyone had wanted to see Slytherin lose the Quidditch cup for the past seven years.
Game play began at Madame Hooch's signal; the Quaffle went into play immediately while Draco rose above the crowd, scanning for the Snitch.
Lee Jordan may have been dramatically biased against Slytherin, but he could really energize a game.
"Ravenclaw's got the Quaffle ... passing around -- look at that formation! They're going to need it in the offensive, since their very attractive Seeker Cho Chang has been out all year with an injury ... now Ravenclaw Captain Roger Davies has it -- coming in on Slytherin Keeper Bruce Bletchley ... swerves ... little farther ... SCORE, Ravenclaw's up ten to nothing and Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint is not happy!"
That was an understatement if Beth had ever heard one. Marcus looked ready to kill as Davies swooped by victoriously.
"Back in play ... the Snitch nowhere to be found, but then the game's young ... that's Slytherin Uther Montague with the Quaffle now -- a Bludger nicks his broom but he's still going strong -- passes to Chaser Adrian Pucey -- here comes that Bludger again ... beat out of the way by Beater Bo Warrington ... wait a minute, can he do that? Foul, foul!"
Warrington had smacked the Bludger in one moment and clobbered Roger Davies with his club in the next.
Everyone landed and Marcus Flint stormed up to Madame Hooch, arguing heatedly.
"This could take a while," sighed Melissa. She stopped watching and instead trained her binoculars on the castle looming across the grounds.
Now Roger Davies was staggering up to the pair of them, gripping his upper arm. Marcus Flint pointed at him and bawled, "He's faking it," loud enough that Beth could hear even from the stands.
Melissa gripped Beth's arm. "Hey, look at this, will you?" Together they bent down to the binoculars and peered out at the castle.
Kettleburn was strolling along the grounds with a dark-robed woman that Beth didn't recognize. "Someone's got a girlfriend in town," Beth grinned.
"Watch closer," said Melissa, a frown evident in her voice.
Beth looked through the binoculars at the pair. Soon it became evident what Melissa meant. They weren't laughing and chatting as a couple would have; they didn't even look grim, as if they were sharing each others' deep feelings or pain. Instead --
"They look like they're at a board meeting," said Beth in wonder.
Melissa nodded, which jerked the binoculars around so much that Beth had to grab them with both hands. Now Kettleburn and the lady had stopped walking. They were near the Forbidden Forest now, and it was hard to tell them apart from the stationary trees. Melissa jiggled the focus a little to give them a better view.
"That's a foul against Slytherin! Chaser Davies flies up to take the penalty shot --" Jordan called over the cheers and complaints of the crowd. Beth looked up in time to watch Bruce block the shot.
"Good, Bruce needs that," she grinned. Melissa wasn't paying attention at all. Instead she still had her binoculars focused on Kettleburn. She started narrating what she was seeing, sounding just like Jordan.
"They're talking. Now the lady is ... getting something out of her pocket ... it's a bag, or something ... Kettleburn has something too, a package, maybe ... the size of his arm ... they're handing them to each other, going to exchange them ..."
"Slytherin scores, ten-ten!" cheered Lee Jordan.
Beth whooped excitedly. Melissa looked up at her and scowled.
"Aren't you paying attention? This could be important."
"Sorry. What's he doing now?"
"They're walking away." Melissa turned the binoculars back on the game. "Look, Little Puce just nailed one of the Chasers with a Bludger!"
"That's two out of three!" Beth said cheerfully.
It was turning into a violent game. Warrington got fouled again when he grabbed hold of the Ravenclaw Seeker's robes. Two of the Ravenclaw Chasers ganged up on Adrian Pucey and tried to force him into the stands. When all the penalty shots were made, Slytherin stood ahead thirty to ten.
"Bruce really has his game on!" said Beth, jumping up and down. "Come on, Draco, just get the Snitch already!"
Draco still hovered over the field, scouring for the Snitch. Luckily, the Ravenclaw Seeker wasn't having any better luck.
"Now it's Ravenclaw with the Quaffle ... halfway up the field ... in scoring position ... INTERCEPTED by Slytherin Montague, and it's back to the other side of the field -- Montague to Flint -- another Slytherin score! Right now it's forty to ten, Slytherins ahead, and if Ravenclaw doesn't do something soon, Slytherin's going to be back in the running for the Quidditch Cup!"
There were loud groans from most of the throng at this, but they were almost overwhelmed by the powerful rejoicing from the Slytherin section of the stands.
Suddenly Draco whirled around and zoomed downfield, going into a deep dive. The Ravenclaw Seeker did a double take before taking off after him. Aaron and Warrington dove toward Draco, one on either side, looking around wildly for the Bludgers.
"Ravenclaw Beater sends a Bludger to the Slytherin Seeker -- deflected by Slytherin Beater Warrington -- but it's coming back, going to be a duke-out -- Seeker Malfoy is after something, all right, leaving Ravenclaw in the dust -- that's the Nimbus 2-K-1 working for him --"
The Bludger came around to the opposite side and went streaking toward Aaron, who easily batted it aside ... but as he did, the second Bludger came flying out of nowhere and slammed into the side of Aaron's head. He let go of his broomstick and dropped like a stone.
The crowd rose to its feet in horror. Adrian Pucey turned on a dime and went soaring down to his brother, mouth open in a long, agonized shout. He forced the Nimbus faster and faster as Aaron hurtled to earth, unmoving. A few yards from the ground -- a few feet -- inches --
Adrian threw himself from his broomstick and leapt onto the ground just in time to cushion his brother's fall. Aaron thudded onto Adrian's back and rolled off. He lay still in the middle of the field. Marcus Flint and Madame Hooch landed and rushed to his side --
"And it's Malfoy with the Snitch! The game is over, Slytherin wins one hundred and eighty to ten, and Slytherin pulls ahead in the running for the Quidditch cup!"
There wasn't nearly as much cheering as there should have been. Instead, the Slytherin supporters poured onto the field, surrounding Adrian Pucey who now cradled his brother in his arms. Beth used her height to her advantage and pushed to the center of the circle.
Aaron was obviously unconscious, but breathing, supported by a terrified-looking Adrian. There was an enormous bruise starting to form over one eye. To make things worse, his right arm was hanging oddly at his side. It was more than a break.
"Smashed the shoulder to bits," Madame Hooch muttered, prodding at it carefully. "Tore some muscle, I shouldn't wonder. Good thing he's out cold -- the pain must be incredible." She looked at Adrian. "He'll never play again, with that arm."
Adrian looked up at her; his eyes were white-ringed and wide. "I don't want him to," he whispered.
Aaron didn't wake up that night; after a few days, it became obvious that he wasn't going to be waking up for a while. Madame Pomfrey wasn't worried.
"Just needs a bit o' rest to clear up his brain," she assured Adrian, who was far from calm about it all. "Give 'im a week, maybe two, he'll come around right as rain. I'll take care of him til then, never fear."
It wasn't easy, but eventually she convinced Adrian that sitting by the beside worrying would do no good. Instead he went back to the common room and fidgeted around until finally he settled down with a piece of parchment and a quill.
"What are you doing?" Bruce asked politely. He was equally concerned for both of the Pucey boys.
"Writing a letter to Draco's dad," said Adrian fervently. "If he hadn't gotten those Nimbus models -- if I'd been just a second slower --"
He swallowed hard, and it was a moment before he could start writing again.