It was a very tense few months for Lee and the twins. Waiting was not something that they did well. George was impatient, Fred was jumpy and Lee was quiet. Quiet for Lee meant only throwing Dungbombs into the girls toilets an average of once a week, and serving detention around every other Wednesday. Lee looked normal to everyone else, but the twins could see that he was quiet. After all, Lee had been dubbed 'the Weasley triplet' by Angelina Johnson's snobby older sister. "We feel your pain, triplet," said Fred in a calming tone.
"Aw, sod off," said Lee, but he was grinning. All three of them thought the nickname hilarious.
"So let's run through the complex and really hard spells that you're learning, VOLUNTARILY, for the sake of this prank. God, you're embarrassing us, Lee!" George chided, acting as though Lee was upstaging him and his twin.
"What can I say? I'm a slave to the art," sniggered Lee. "Well, there's Confundus, Agarium, Deteriatus, Barritatum, those spells that make your voice go loud and quiet-"
"Um, are those Sonorus and Quietus?" asked George.
"Yeah, whatever."
"You swot," teased Fred. "Bringing shame upon the family by paying attention in class! We're thinking of disowning you."
The three boys were up in the dormitory. Lee had Killer the tarantula on his shoulder. Killer was slightly shaken from having been slipped into a girl's book bag that morning, but was slowly recovering from the ordeal. "Poor widdle spider," Lee told his pet. "You're a worthwhile accessory, ya know that?"
"Definitely worth it. The way Clarissa Sutherton, She Who Is A Posh-Ass Twit, screamed! Truly inspired!" George patted Killer on the head with his fingers. "Well done, O Valiant Little Spider."
"Little?" asked Lee. "I'll have you know that Killer is big for his age!"
"Don't Clarissa know it, though?" asked George. "The way she screamed! She has a more masculine scream than Bill!"
All three sniggered.
"Quidditch tomorrow, men," said Fred.
"Yeah," said Lee, his eyes sparking. "Thank God I didn't get detention for the Killer-and-Clarissa incident."
"Think you'll need any additional help with distracting the prefects? We could always let someone else in on it- Angelina, maybe?" asked Fred.
"Yo, brother. I'm not a two-year-old, I can pull a little hilarious and soon-to-be-legendary prank all by my little self. No letting in the girls, they'll blab it all over the school!" said Lee indignantly.
"Just a suggestion," Fred pacified. "Hey, damn! Where's my quill?"
"I saw it down in the common room," said George offhandedly. "Didn't pick it up 'cause I figured Lee would."
Fred glared.
"You, George Weasley, are useless. See you in a bit, I've got to go and salvage it before the house-elves pick it up and mark it as lost."
He left. Lee sneered. "Knew he'd try and rope his girl into this somehow."
"They make such a lovely couple," said George in a high voice.
"Angelina Johnson is NOT my girl!" yelled Fred from the corridor.
"Sure she isn't!" answered Lee. He and George laughed, working off nerves the only way they knew how.
* * *
Lee lurked. He'd always found the dungeons a bit creepy- cold, too. He shivered even though he was wearing a cloak, the hood pulled up over his face. Where is that Bulstrode thickhead? he wondered.
There she was, wandering along, alone, grunting words under her breath. She was tall and skeletally skinny, with lank hair and a face that somewhat resembled a Harpy's. It was ruddy cold, down in the dungeons, and vapour issued from her mouth as she stamped her feet to keep warm.
She stopped.
Lee held his breath.
"'Lo?" she called. "Is someone there?"
Lee fumbled for his wand and held it tightly.
"Come out!" she ordered.
Lee stepped out of the shadows. "Confundo Marionne Bulstrode!" he yelled.
Marionne stopped dead and blinked rapidly, seemingly reverting into babyhood.
"Marionne Bulstrode, what are you doing out here?" he asked severely. "It's two in the morning. You should be in bed!"
"I should?" she said dreamily.
"Yeah, definitely."
"O- OK."
"Good girl."
He watched the seventh-year totter back to the Slytherin common and smirked. "Ooh, yes, two in the morning." He sniggered. "'Mazing, really, how easy it is to Confund these Slytherins." He then ambled away, outside, to where the sun blazed and countless black-robed students were making their way to the Quidditch pitch.
Hood still hiding his face, Lee slunk into the stadium. Now, where was the commentator's box? "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered, racing along deserted corridors. He could hear students jostling for seats, calling out to their friends that they were saving them seats. Swishes of cloaks, thump of foot on wooden stands that had been there since hell, DECADES before the days when Lee's grandfather had been a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. Lee's granddad was the only person in the family who had an actual ounce of Quidditch-playing talent in him.
The Weasley twins hung about impatiently. "No prefects about," said Fred excitedly. He glared at George. "Quit looking so shifty!"
"I'm not looking shifty, you are!"
"You are!"
"You- hey, Lee man. All set?"
Lee had arrived, breathing heavily. "Yep. You two ickle boys run along now, Lee'll be all right. Mind you don't run into any prefects."
"Cheek!" chided George. "We're rooting for you, Lee-boy." They nicked off sharpish and Lee stepped into the commentator's box.
The commentator's box was a small room, high above everything. It had a spectaular view. He could see a huge crowd of kids in blue and bronze supporter colours, and around the same amount wearing yellow and black.
The walls and ceiling were completely plastered with Quidditch posters and photos of the house Quidditch teams. You couldn't even see what colour they were. Countless boys and girls waved frantically from the pictures. They laughed in the shadows, they sulked in the corners, they gazed furtively down from the ceiling at the top of Lee's head. Most of the boys and girls in the pictures were dead, Lee realised.
He sat down at the small and rickety table, on a chair. There was the magical microphone, and diagrams of moves, descriptions of fouls and bits of homework that past commentators had been doing in the slow parts of games- Lord, that Transfiguration essay was from the twenties! All on tattered bits of parchement that seemed to disintegrate at the slightest touch. Gingerly, Lee spread them apart, stacking them neatly so that he could read them.
Everyone was in their seats, waiting for him to start. "This is it," whispered Lee. His first real Quidditch commentary.
He brandished his wand at his throat and hissed, "Agarium." He waited as a peculiar sensation took ahold of his throat. He swallowed. "Whoa." A pause. "Cool, man."
His voice had just aged ten years.
Cool! thought Lee. So this is what I'll sound like when I'm twenty-one? His voice had a radio-announcer tone to it, and still sounded pleasantly like Lee.
"Great," he said. Some of the Quidditch players in the pictures gave each other weird looks.
Directing his wand at the door, he called out, "Barritatum!" The door was locked.
A final spell. "Sonorus," Lee heard his twenty-one-year-old voixce say in a slightly dazed voice. And so Lee began...
"Ladies, gentlemen, Quidditch fans and village idiots! Welcome to the second Quidditch game of the year, an epic match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Who will win?"
A funny uplifting sensation occurred somewhere in Lee Jordan when he realised that everyone was whispering and giggling, twisting about in their seats to try and get a look at him. He made sure his hood completely covered his face before continuing.
"I am the Mystery Commentator. I am not seen. I am heard, and I LIVE to entertain you, 'cause that's what I'm great at! I'm a good little boy when I want to be, but right now I feel like having you cheer! Can you cheer?" There were some shouts, but generally everyone was totally shocked. "Um, great. Now, let's go to the Quidditch!"
The Quaffle had gone into play, the Bludgers burst forth and made a savage attack at the apposing Seekers' heads and the Snitch was up.
"There it goes!" yelled Lee. He'd never felt so excellent. He was commentating! "And it's Sera Flynch with the Quaffle, this girl knows her stuff- Christ, look at her go! Flynch of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle, streaking up the pitch. Lovely little dive 'round a Beater, who takes out a Chaser, not Flynch, thank God for Hufflepuff. Their Chaser Andy Dowley puts away a penalty goal, no troubles, and we continue play."
"What in the hell happened to Bulstrode?" thundered Professor Snape as he and McGonagall strode up then stairs to apprehend the little hooligan responsible for this abomination.
"Language, Severus!" scolded McGonagall. They reached the door, and could hear the Mystery Commentator inside, rambling away.
"... woo, yeah! Did you lot see that? The Ravenclaw boy can pull a save! Whoa, and that was some save too! I..." Lee faltered. The lock was being rattled. Small purply-coloured sparks flickered momentarily around the lock as she Locking Charm fought to keep hold,
Hold, damn you! This is bad, thought Lee, edging ever so slightly away from the door. Shaken, he continued.
"I see that the valiant Ravenclaws have scored a goal or two, but the Hufflepuffs have been practicing, yeah! See that form!"
"Wow," said Davina Johnson, Angelina's sister, from her spot in the stands. "He's REALLY cool."
"He's got a vocabulary like a first-year," said her friend, a duelling champion.
Davina shot her a winning smile. "That's all right. I'm not interested in his vocabulary!"
A couple of seats in front, Angelina pretended to puke.
"It's the Ravenclaws, pulling ahead with some fancy moves by Davies, Underwood and Creedon! Yo, Ravenclaws- can your Chasers fly or what? And it's Underwood, Ellie Underwood, seventh-year and Captain, streaking up the pitch with the Quaffle under her arm- come on, Ravenclaws, I've seen budgerigars that can cheer louder than you! Hufflepuff intercepts the Quaffle, go it, Hufflepuff! No fouls as of yet and- and-"
The lock was giving a dangerous rattle. Snape was cursing and roaring, and as Lee continued, he extracted something from his pocket. It was an invention of the Weasley twins called a Smog Bomb. A crude but effective version of a Dungbomb, it spewed clouds of dark smoke every which-way when it was thrown. He'd have to use it for his escape.
"Sorry, friends, mere technical difficulties." Lee allowed himself a grin.
Hufflepuff were winning by three goals, but the Seekers hadn't had much to do yet. Suddenly, before anyone else, Lee saw the Ravenclaw Seeker diving. "RAVENCLAW'S GOING INTO A DIVE! C'MON, HUFFLEPUFF- YOU CAN WIN THIS THING!" roared Lee.
Down... down...
"The Seekers are neck and neck! The Snitch won't wait long, c'mon, go it!" yelled Lee.
Ravenclaw surged forward, stretched out his arm and- was knocked aside by Hufflepuff! "HUFFLEPUFF WINS, ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY POINTS! Knew you could do it!!!"
The Hufflepuffs were beside themselves, hugging and cheering. Lee decided that now would be an excellent time to make a hasty escape. "Thanks to ev'ryone for coming. I'm the Mystery Commentator, and I'll try to make it to the next game! Bye!"
Lee hopped off the stool and turned to face the door. People were jostling to leave their seats, they wanted to see him, to find him out. "Quietus," he hissed, his voice returning to normal volume.
"ALOHOMORA!" he yelled, and the door burst open. The Smog Bomb had already left his hand, and by the time the door was fully open black, choking smoke filled the air. Ducking and diving, twisting and sprinting, he swarmed out into the corridor. He felt a Prefect snatch at his arm and wrenched it frantically away, his feet clattering on the floorboards in their trainers.
He shoved through throngs of people on the stairs. They didn't see him, didn't expect him, didn't want to expect him. Who'd expect a first-year to be the Mystery Commentator?
Lee didn't stop running until he was out of the stadium. He'd never run so fast in all his life, and it felt ruddy grand! Suddenly, two figures stepped out in front of him, and he skidded to a halt. "Oh- God-" he panted. "Felt- amazing- Snape... swore... so MUCH! Hopping mad, he was!"
Fred and George exchanged a look and cracked up as Lee pulled off his cloak and handed it to George for him to stow in his backpack. "What?" asked Lee as a crowd of people came out of the stadium.
"Your voice, man! Use Deteriatus, quick, before someone hears you!"
Lee swore. "Deteriatus," he said hoarsely. He grinned. "Never felt so great, guys. Honestly, I-"
"I heard everything."
Horrified, the three Gryffindors whipped around. There, with her arms folded across her front and a funny expression on her face, was Alicia Spinnet.
"Alicia, we can explain-"
"Heard everything, I did."
Alicia was shaking her head. "You boys are in trouble now, d'you realise that?"
"Oh, go on Alicia, be a sport, don't rat us out!" said Fred, a note of panic in his voice.
Lee was confused. Why did Alicia want to turn them in? "Licia, I thought we could trust each other." It wasn't a question. God, why, of all the moments in the world, did Alicia have to turn traitor at this one?
"Don't call me Licia. And I just wanna say something-"
The boys exchanged sullen looks. Here it came. The second that Alicia Spinnet would finally betray them and start acting like a prissy girl, skipping off to the teachers telling tales. Start to act like a GIRL, and what's worse, a SECOND-YEAR GIRL, and they were nothing but trouble. They waited for the blow to fall.
"I want in."
* * * * *
I tried to keep my word, and have the second chapter up quick. See, you've just read it!
A note- in my fic 'An Interview With Lee Jordan', I had Lee say that he looks like a younger Craig David. I've changed my perspective of him. Has any of you seen a show called 'The Renford Rejects'? Well, there's a boy on that show who plays this commentator called Vinnie Rodrigues. The actor, Roger Davies (no, I'm not kidding, that's his name) is EXACTLY my mental image of Lee.
I'm sorry, everyone. Blame my pathetic mathematics skills that Alicia ended up a year older than Lee, Angelina, George, Katie and Fred. But I sort of like the idea of her being older- at least, it adds to the plot of this story, that she's older and everything.
Thanks SO much to my good reviewers. I'm really questioning the quality of this fic, and at least I know that some people like it.
Like I said, Rowling's and not mine.
Thanks, and I'll have the next chapter up very quick!
"Aw, sod off," said Lee, but he was grinning. All three of them thought the nickname hilarious.
"So let's run through the complex and really hard spells that you're learning, VOLUNTARILY, for the sake of this prank. God, you're embarrassing us, Lee!" George chided, acting as though Lee was upstaging him and his twin.
"What can I say? I'm a slave to the art," sniggered Lee. "Well, there's Confundus, Agarium, Deteriatus, Barritatum, those spells that make your voice go loud and quiet-"
"Um, are those Sonorus and Quietus?" asked George.
"Yeah, whatever."
"You swot," teased Fred. "Bringing shame upon the family by paying attention in class! We're thinking of disowning you."
The three boys were up in the dormitory. Lee had Killer the tarantula on his shoulder. Killer was slightly shaken from having been slipped into a girl's book bag that morning, but was slowly recovering from the ordeal. "Poor widdle spider," Lee told his pet. "You're a worthwhile accessory, ya know that?"
"Definitely worth it. The way Clarissa Sutherton, She Who Is A Posh-Ass Twit, screamed! Truly inspired!" George patted Killer on the head with his fingers. "Well done, O Valiant Little Spider."
"Little?" asked Lee. "I'll have you know that Killer is big for his age!"
"Don't Clarissa know it, though?" asked George. "The way she screamed! She has a more masculine scream than Bill!"
All three sniggered.
"Quidditch tomorrow, men," said Fred.
"Yeah," said Lee, his eyes sparking. "Thank God I didn't get detention for the Killer-and-Clarissa incident."
"Think you'll need any additional help with distracting the prefects? We could always let someone else in on it- Angelina, maybe?" asked Fred.
"Yo, brother. I'm not a two-year-old, I can pull a little hilarious and soon-to-be-legendary prank all by my little self. No letting in the girls, they'll blab it all over the school!" said Lee indignantly.
"Just a suggestion," Fred pacified. "Hey, damn! Where's my quill?"
"I saw it down in the common room," said George offhandedly. "Didn't pick it up 'cause I figured Lee would."
Fred glared.
"You, George Weasley, are useless. See you in a bit, I've got to go and salvage it before the house-elves pick it up and mark it as lost."
He left. Lee sneered. "Knew he'd try and rope his girl into this somehow."
"They make such a lovely couple," said George in a high voice.
"Angelina Johnson is NOT my girl!" yelled Fred from the corridor.
"Sure she isn't!" answered Lee. He and George laughed, working off nerves the only way they knew how.
* * *
Lee lurked. He'd always found the dungeons a bit creepy- cold, too. He shivered even though he was wearing a cloak, the hood pulled up over his face. Where is that Bulstrode thickhead? he wondered.
There she was, wandering along, alone, grunting words under her breath. She was tall and skeletally skinny, with lank hair and a face that somewhat resembled a Harpy's. It was ruddy cold, down in the dungeons, and vapour issued from her mouth as she stamped her feet to keep warm.
She stopped.
Lee held his breath.
"'Lo?" she called. "Is someone there?"
Lee fumbled for his wand and held it tightly.
"Come out!" she ordered.
Lee stepped out of the shadows. "Confundo Marionne Bulstrode!" he yelled.
Marionne stopped dead and blinked rapidly, seemingly reverting into babyhood.
"Marionne Bulstrode, what are you doing out here?" he asked severely. "It's two in the morning. You should be in bed!"
"I should?" she said dreamily.
"Yeah, definitely."
"O- OK."
"Good girl."
He watched the seventh-year totter back to the Slytherin common and smirked. "Ooh, yes, two in the morning." He sniggered. "'Mazing, really, how easy it is to Confund these Slytherins." He then ambled away, outside, to where the sun blazed and countless black-robed students were making their way to the Quidditch pitch.
Hood still hiding his face, Lee slunk into the stadium. Now, where was the commentator's box? "Damn, damn, damn," he muttered, racing along deserted corridors. He could hear students jostling for seats, calling out to their friends that they were saving them seats. Swishes of cloaks, thump of foot on wooden stands that had been there since hell, DECADES before the days when Lee's grandfather had been a Chaser for the Gryffindor team. Lee's granddad was the only person in the family who had an actual ounce of Quidditch-playing talent in him.
The Weasley twins hung about impatiently. "No prefects about," said Fred excitedly. He glared at George. "Quit looking so shifty!"
"I'm not looking shifty, you are!"
"You are!"
"You- hey, Lee man. All set?"
Lee had arrived, breathing heavily. "Yep. You two ickle boys run along now, Lee'll be all right. Mind you don't run into any prefects."
"Cheek!" chided George. "We're rooting for you, Lee-boy." They nicked off sharpish and Lee stepped into the commentator's box.
The commentator's box was a small room, high above everything. It had a spectaular view. He could see a huge crowd of kids in blue and bronze supporter colours, and around the same amount wearing yellow and black.
The walls and ceiling were completely plastered with Quidditch posters and photos of the house Quidditch teams. You couldn't even see what colour they were. Countless boys and girls waved frantically from the pictures. They laughed in the shadows, they sulked in the corners, they gazed furtively down from the ceiling at the top of Lee's head. Most of the boys and girls in the pictures were dead, Lee realised.
He sat down at the small and rickety table, on a chair. There was the magical microphone, and diagrams of moves, descriptions of fouls and bits of homework that past commentators had been doing in the slow parts of games- Lord, that Transfiguration essay was from the twenties! All on tattered bits of parchement that seemed to disintegrate at the slightest touch. Gingerly, Lee spread them apart, stacking them neatly so that he could read them.
Everyone was in their seats, waiting for him to start. "This is it," whispered Lee. His first real Quidditch commentary.
He brandished his wand at his throat and hissed, "Agarium." He waited as a peculiar sensation took ahold of his throat. He swallowed. "Whoa." A pause. "Cool, man."
His voice had just aged ten years.
Cool! thought Lee. So this is what I'll sound like when I'm twenty-one? His voice had a radio-announcer tone to it, and still sounded pleasantly like Lee.
"Great," he said. Some of the Quidditch players in the pictures gave each other weird looks.
Directing his wand at the door, he called out, "Barritatum!" The door was locked.
A final spell. "Sonorus," Lee heard his twenty-one-year-old voixce say in a slightly dazed voice. And so Lee began...
"Ladies, gentlemen, Quidditch fans and village idiots! Welcome to the second Quidditch game of the year, an epic match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Who will win?"
A funny uplifting sensation occurred somewhere in Lee Jordan when he realised that everyone was whispering and giggling, twisting about in their seats to try and get a look at him. He made sure his hood completely covered his face before continuing.
"I am the Mystery Commentator. I am not seen. I am heard, and I LIVE to entertain you, 'cause that's what I'm great at! I'm a good little boy when I want to be, but right now I feel like having you cheer! Can you cheer?" There were some shouts, but generally everyone was totally shocked. "Um, great. Now, let's go to the Quidditch!"
The Quaffle had gone into play, the Bludgers burst forth and made a savage attack at the apposing Seekers' heads and the Snitch was up.
"There it goes!" yelled Lee. He'd never felt so excellent. He was commentating! "And it's Sera Flynch with the Quaffle, this girl knows her stuff- Christ, look at her go! Flynch of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle, streaking up the pitch. Lovely little dive 'round a Beater, who takes out a Chaser, not Flynch, thank God for Hufflepuff. Their Chaser Andy Dowley puts away a penalty goal, no troubles, and we continue play."
"What in the hell happened to Bulstrode?" thundered Professor Snape as he and McGonagall strode up then stairs to apprehend the little hooligan responsible for this abomination.
"Language, Severus!" scolded McGonagall. They reached the door, and could hear the Mystery Commentator inside, rambling away.
"... woo, yeah! Did you lot see that? The Ravenclaw boy can pull a save! Whoa, and that was some save too! I..." Lee faltered. The lock was being rattled. Small purply-coloured sparks flickered momentarily around the lock as she Locking Charm fought to keep hold,
Hold, damn you! This is bad, thought Lee, edging ever so slightly away from the door. Shaken, he continued.
"I see that the valiant Ravenclaws have scored a goal or two, but the Hufflepuffs have been practicing, yeah! See that form!"
"Wow," said Davina Johnson, Angelina's sister, from her spot in the stands. "He's REALLY cool."
"He's got a vocabulary like a first-year," said her friend, a duelling champion.
Davina shot her a winning smile. "That's all right. I'm not interested in his vocabulary!"
A couple of seats in front, Angelina pretended to puke.
"It's the Ravenclaws, pulling ahead with some fancy moves by Davies, Underwood and Creedon! Yo, Ravenclaws- can your Chasers fly or what? And it's Underwood, Ellie Underwood, seventh-year and Captain, streaking up the pitch with the Quaffle under her arm- come on, Ravenclaws, I've seen budgerigars that can cheer louder than you! Hufflepuff intercepts the Quaffle, go it, Hufflepuff! No fouls as of yet and- and-"
The lock was giving a dangerous rattle. Snape was cursing and roaring, and as Lee continued, he extracted something from his pocket. It was an invention of the Weasley twins called a Smog Bomb. A crude but effective version of a Dungbomb, it spewed clouds of dark smoke every which-way when it was thrown. He'd have to use it for his escape.
"Sorry, friends, mere technical difficulties." Lee allowed himself a grin.
Hufflepuff were winning by three goals, but the Seekers hadn't had much to do yet. Suddenly, before anyone else, Lee saw the Ravenclaw Seeker diving. "RAVENCLAW'S GOING INTO A DIVE! C'MON, HUFFLEPUFF- YOU CAN WIN THIS THING!" roared Lee.
Down... down...
"The Seekers are neck and neck! The Snitch won't wait long, c'mon, go it!" yelled Lee.
Ravenclaw surged forward, stretched out his arm and- was knocked aside by Hufflepuff! "HUFFLEPUFF WINS, ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY POINTS! Knew you could do it!!!"
The Hufflepuffs were beside themselves, hugging and cheering. Lee decided that now would be an excellent time to make a hasty escape. "Thanks to ev'ryone for coming. I'm the Mystery Commentator, and I'll try to make it to the next game! Bye!"
Lee hopped off the stool and turned to face the door. People were jostling to leave their seats, they wanted to see him, to find him out. "Quietus," he hissed, his voice returning to normal volume.
"ALOHOMORA!" he yelled, and the door burst open. The Smog Bomb had already left his hand, and by the time the door was fully open black, choking smoke filled the air. Ducking and diving, twisting and sprinting, he swarmed out into the corridor. He felt a Prefect snatch at his arm and wrenched it frantically away, his feet clattering on the floorboards in their trainers.
He shoved through throngs of people on the stairs. They didn't see him, didn't expect him, didn't want to expect him. Who'd expect a first-year to be the Mystery Commentator?
Lee didn't stop running until he was out of the stadium. He'd never run so fast in all his life, and it felt ruddy grand! Suddenly, two figures stepped out in front of him, and he skidded to a halt. "Oh- God-" he panted. "Felt- amazing- Snape... swore... so MUCH! Hopping mad, he was!"
Fred and George exchanged a look and cracked up as Lee pulled off his cloak and handed it to George for him to stow in his backpack. "What?" asked Lee as a crowd of people came out of the stadium.
"Your voice, man! Use Deteriatus, quick, before someone hears you!"
Lee swore. "Deteriatus," he said hoarsely. He grinned. "Never felt so great, guys. Honestly, I-"
"I heard everything."
Horrified, the three Gryffindors whipped around. There, with her arms folded across her front and a funny expression on her face, was Alicia Spinnet.
"Alicia, we can explain-"
"Heard everything, I did."
Alicia was shaking her head. "You boys are in trouble now, d'you realise that?"
"Oh, go on Alicia, be a sport, don't rat us out!" said Fred, a note of panic in his voice.
Lee was confused. Why did Alicia want to turn them in? "Licia, I thought we could trust each other." It wasn't a question. God, why, of all the moments in the world, did Alicia have to turn traitor at this one?
"Don't call me Licia. And I just wanna say something-"
The boys exchanged sullen looks. Here it came. The second that Alicia Spinnet would finally betray them and start acting like a prissy girl, skipping off to the teachers telling tales. Start to act like a GIRL, and what's worse, a SECOND-YEAR GIRL, and they were nothing but trouble. They waited for the blow to fall.
"I want in."
* * * * *
I tried to keep my word, and have the second chapter up quick. See, you've just read it!
A note- in my fic 'An Interview With Lee Jordan', I had Lee say that he looks like a younger Craig David. I've changed my perspective of him. Has any of you seen a show called 'The Renford Rejects'? Well, there's a boy on that show who plays this commentator called Vinnie Rodrigues. The actor, Roger Davies (no, I'm not kidding, that's his name) is EXACTLY my mental image of Lee.
I'm sorry, everyone. Blame my pathetic mathematics skills that Alicia ended up a year older than Lee, Angelina, George, Katie and Fred. But I sort of like the idea of her being older- at least, it adds to the plot of this story, that she's older and everything.
Thanks SO much to my good reviewers. I'm really questioning the quality of this fic, and at least I know that some people like it.
Like I said, Rowling's and not mine.
Thanks, and I'll have the next chapter up very quick!