Lee stared at his feet, feeling the unwavering stare of the Hogwarts headmaster. Snape had left a second ago, and now Lee was alone. He wished like mad that the twins or even Alicia were there. For once, he was concerned that he'd gone too far.
"You do realise that you're in a lot of trouble, Mr Jordan?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm afraid that this warrants a rather serious punishment for you and your co-conspirators."
He regarded Lee gravely. "Taking into account your record of no less that sixteen resepective detentions in the past two months, I can truthfully say that this is unsurprising to me. The question is, what are we to do with you?"
For once, Lee kept silent.
"Now, I'd like you to tell me everything from the beginning, if you don't mind."
His voice was not the sarcastic hiss of a vindictive Snape or the businesslike tone of a McGonagall. It was a request.
Lee began the story from the beginning in a low voice. "... but, sir?" he said as he finished his tale.
"Mr Jordan?"
"I'd like to say something. I'm not sorry. I mean, I'm sorry for knocking out all those Slytherins, but I'm not sorry for the commentary. 'Cause commentating a real Quidditch game, and having everybody like what I was saying, and laugh... that was great, sir." Lee was well aware that he was digging his own grave but he couldn't help himself. "It's the most fun thing I could do. And I'm good at it as well."
He braced himself for ten detentions, followed by inevitable expulsion.
For the first time in the conversation, an indulgent sort of smile graced Dumbledore's face. "I admire your honesty, Mr Jordan. But the fact is that there are some in this school who would never have you commentate again."
Lee remembered the shining rush of joy he got those last few games when he commentated. Having everybody think he was funny. He'd never get that again, at least not at Hogwarts.
"However... Miss Bulstrode is leaving at the end of the year, Lee. And there would appear to be a definite shortage of talented commentators in this school..."
Puzzled, Lee did not interrupt. What was Dumbledore saying?
"I think it would be a waste of an excellent Quidditch commentator if we did not use you for commentator next year."
There was no other word for it. Lee was stunned.
Dumbledore nodded. "Consider yourself an understudy, a trainee, if you will. If Marionne cannot attend a game, you will commentate in her place. To keep the peace, I will assign a teacher to supervise your commentary. Next year, you will become the full-time commentator for the school Quidditch games. I think you have proven your competance."
Lee nodded, dumbfounded.
"But," said Dumbledore sternly, "the fact remains that you commentated without permission, unsupervised, while endangering the safety of several members of Slytherin House. You will serve a detention and make a formal apology to Slytherin. Owls have been sent to your parents and to the parents of the Weasleys, Miss Spinnet, Miss Bell and Miss Johnson."
Oh no, thought Lee. Visions of Howlers danced in his head. Plus a sudden mental image of his mum practically frothing at the mouth with rage. And a trip into the Forbidden Forest...
But I'm a commentator, he realised suddenly. Well, a commentator-in-training.
I'M GOING TO BE AN ACTUAL COMMENTATOR!
He grinned suddenly, rapt in the news.
Dumbledore stood up from his desk. "I suggest, Lee, that you make your way back to Gryffindor. There's no need for me to speak with your friends, they have been dealt with accordingly."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," babbled Lee, standing up.
"I must say, I've never seen anyone so happy to receive a detention," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.
"Um, I- I have to go. Homework and... yeah," Lee said. "Thanks, Headmaster."
Upon leaving the office, Lee took the stairs three at a time. He found himself in a deserted corridor. Lee Jordan grinned and looked around, making sure he really was completely alone.
"YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" roared Lee, leaping a foot into the air. "Woo! Hellyeah! Yes! Man, this is the best day of my life!"
And the living tornado that was Lee Jordan swarmed off to Gryffindor to spread the good news.
* * *
YEARS LATER
Seventeen-year-old Lee Jordan stood up from the commentator's chair for the last time. He watched the last few stragglers leave the pitch.
McGonagall had been suspicious about leaving Lee in the commentator's box after the last game of the year. Perhaps she'd thought he would graffiti 'LONG LIVE LEE JORDAN' in foot-high letters... or worse. Everyone knew what the school commentator was capable of.
Lee strolled around the little room, looking at the pictures. In his years, he had been in charge of tacking up some more group shots. He stopped by one. His favourite.
A group of teenagers posed at the foot of a goalpost. There were Angelina and Katie with their arms around each other's shoulders, the twins posing with their Beater's bats, Alicia leaning coolly against her broomstick- and himself. The six Gryffindors grinned and waved silently.
The Picture Angelina waved motioned to the others, removing her arm from around Katie's shoulders. The others nodded and cheered. Picture Fred, George, Alicia, Katie and Angelina grabbed their broomsticks and mounted them, zooming out of the picture. Picture Lee was the only one left.
Picture Lee, aged about fourteen in the photo, scuffed a foot. For once, he didn't seem affronted at being alone. He waved and strolled out of the frame.
Lee knew the original subjects of the picture would be back. He wouldn't. He was graduating in a week or two.
He remembered all his best commentaries over the years.
"... and the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too-"
"So- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"
"YOU CHEATING SCUM! YOU FILTHY, CHEATING BASTARD!"
You can't beat that, he thought cheerfully.
As Lee exited the stadium, he nearly waled into someone loitering in the main door to the stands.
"Ow!"
"Watch it, Triplet!"
"Watch it... Triplet?"
He squinted. No one had called him the Weasley Triplet since the second year.
"Alicia?"
"Well, at least your memory hasn't gone," she grinned, tossing her hair.
"What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Prophet?"
"I got off the afternoon shift easily enough. Anyhow, I wanted to see the Mystery Commentator's last stand."
Lee raised his eyebrows. "You were here? They don't let visitors come and see the games."
Alicia smiled mischievously. "Well, donning an outsize Hogwarts robe and keeping my hood up got me in easily enough."
"Great! So you heard me?"
"Every word, Lee. Listen, I've got to get back to the Prophet before we go to press, but owl me after you leave, right?"
"Yeah. Alicia?"
"Mmm?" asked Alicia, checking her watch. "Damn, it's Saturn's equinox- five past three. Really, Lee, I must go-"
"I'm glad you came. I'll owl you."
She nodded. And in her old, oddly comforting matriachly way, she clapped him on the back. "That's my Lee. Well, I'll see you-"
"Why don't you come to the house party? Go on, 'Licia. It'll be fun."
She opened her mouth and then closed it. "Well... if you make a table walk again, I might," she said quietly.
"You remembered that?"
"Uh-huh."
"Just as long as you come too. I insist."
"You can't insist. I'm older than you."
"But not stronger, 'Licia." Lee said ominously.
"Don't call me 'Licia and I'll come," she said. "God, you're impossible."
"No, you're impossible!"
Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet made their way up to the castle for the house party. It was on that day, years after the War of the Commentators and barely a week before he left the school, that it was made perfectly clear. The Mystery Commentator of old hadn't ever left. He'd simply played on.
* * * * *
Oh my God, I've never written such a terrible ending. I think I'm going to die, or scream, or jump off a cliff to escape the inevitable flames from you, the indignant readers. I slaughtered my story! It was going so un-badly and I slaughtered it! Please don't kill me!
I'd like to thank each and every person who's reviewed this fic. You lot all rock. You've been copiously encouraging, and yet I let you all down by churning out this heinous excuse for a last chapter. But as I write this I'm home with a virus, so I'm probably delirious. Yeah. I've been having too many blackberry Soothers.
I would appreciate reviews. Please, if you're going to flame me, would you kind saying exactly what was wrong with my fic so I can fix it. And if you've written a Lee fic, mention it so I can read it. We need more Lee on ffn.net!
If you managed to overcome my miserable ending and liked this fic, you might enjoy the prequel, 'First Day', which doesn't have Alicia in it but is told from the POVs of the twins, Lee and Angelina.
Thank you to all my good reviewers. You've all been truly great. Laters!
"You do realise that you're in a lot of trouble, Mr Jordan?" asked Dumbledore.
"Yes, sir."
"I'm afraid that this warrants a rather serious punishment for you and your co-conspirators."
He regarded Lee gravely. "Taking into account your record of no less that sixteen resepective detentions in the past two months, I can truthfully say that this is unsurprising to me. The question is, what are we to do with you?"
For once, Lee kept silent.
"Now, I'd like you to tell me everything from the beginning, if you don't mind."
His voice was not the sarcastic hiss of a vindictive Snape or the businesslike tone of a McGonagall. It was a request.
Lee began the story from the beginning in a low voice. "... but, sir?" he said as he finished his tale.
"Mr Jordan?"
"I'd like to say something. I'm not sorry. I mean, I'm sorry for knocking out all those Slytherins, but I'm not sorry for the commentary. 'Cause commentating a real Quidditch game, and having everybody like what I was saying, and laugh... that was great, sir." Lee was well aware that he was digging his own grave but he couldn't help himself. "It's the most fun thing I could do. And I'm good at it as well."
He braced himself for ten detentions, followed by inevitable expulsion.
For the first time in the conversation, an indulgent sort of smile graced Dumbledore's face. "I admire your honesty, Mr Jordan. But the fact is that there are some in this school who would never have you commentate again."
Lee remembered the shining rush of joy he got those last few games when he commentated. Having everybody think he was funny. He'd never get that again, at least not at Hogwarts.
"However... Miss Bulstrode is leaving at the end of the year, Lee. And there would appear to be a definite shortage of talented commentators in this school..."
Puzzled, Lee did not interrupt. What was Dumbledore saying?
"I think it would be a waste of an excellent Quidditch commentator if we did not use you for commentator next year."
There was no other word for it. Lee was stunned.
Dumbledore nodded. "Consider yourself an understudy, a trainee, if you will. If Marionne cannot attend a game, you will commentate in her place. To keep the peace, I will assign a teacher to supervise your commentary. Next year, you will become the full-time commentator for the school Quidditch games. I think you have proven your competance."
Lee nodded, dumbfounded.
"But," said Dumbledore sternly, "the fact remains that you commentated without permission, unsupervised, while endangering the safety of several members of Slytherin House. You will serve a detention and make a formal apology to Slytherin. Owls have been sent to your parents and to the parents of the Weasleys, Miss Spinnet, Miss Bell and Miss Johnson."
Oh no, thought Lee. Visions of Howlers danced in his head. Plus a sudden mental image of his mum practically frothing at the mouth with rage. And a trip into the Forbidden Forest...
But I'm a commentator, he realised suddenly. Well, a commentator-in-training.
I'M GOING TO BE AN ACTUAL COMMENTATOR!
He grinned suddenly, rapt in the news.
Dumbledore stood up from his desk. "I suggest, Lee, that you make your way back to Gryffindor. There's no need for me to speak with your friends, they have been dealt with accordingly."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," babbled Lee, standing up.
"I must say, I've never seen anyone so happy to receive a detention," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling.
"Um, I- I have to go. Homework and... yeah," Lee said. "Thanks, Headmaster."
Upon leaving the office, Lee took the stairs three at a time. He found himself in a deserted corridor. Lee Jordan grinned and looked around, making sure he really was completely alone.
"YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!" roared Lee, leaping a foot into the air. "Woo! Hellyeah! Yes! Man, this is the best day of my life!"
And the living tornado that was Lee Jordan swarmed off to Gryffindor to spread the good news.
* * *
YEARS LATER
Seventeen-year-old Lee Jordan stood up from the commentator's chair for the last time. He watched the last few stragglers leave the pitch.
McGonagall had been suspicious about leaving Lee in the commentator's box after the last game of the year. Perhaps she'd thought he would graffiti 'LONG LIVE LEE JORDAN' in foot-high letters... or worse. Everyone knew what the school commentator was capable of.
Lee strolled around the little room, looking at the pictures. In his years, he had been in charge of tacking up some more group shots. He stopped by one. His favourite.
A group of teenagers posed at the foot of a goalpost. There were Angelina and Katie with their arms around each other's shoulders, the twins posing with their Beater's bats, Alicia leaning coolly against her broomstick- and himself. The six Gryffindors grinned and waved silently.
The Picture Angelina waved motioned to the others, removing her arm from around Katie's shoulders. The others nodded and cheered. Picture Fred, George, Alicia, Katie and Angelina grabbed their broomsticks and mounted them, zooming out of the picture. Picture Lee was the only one left.
Picture Lee, aged about fourteen in the photo, scuffed a foot. For once, he didn't seem affronted at being alone. He waved and strolled out of the frame.
Lee knew the original subjects of the picture would be back. He wouldn't. He was graduating in a week or two.
He remembered all his best commentaries over the years.
"... and the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive too-"
"So- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating-"
"I mean, after that open and revolting foul-"
"YOU CHEATING SCUM! YOU FILTHY, CHEATING BASTARD!"
You can't beat that, he thought cheerfully.
As Lee exited the stadium, he nearly waled into someone loitering in the main door to the stands.
"Ow!"
"Watch it, Triplet!"
"Watch it... Triplet?"
He squinted. No one had called him the Weasley Triplet since the second year.
"Alicia?"
"Well, at least your memory hasn't gone," she grinned, tossing her hair.
"What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the Prophet?"
"I got off the afternoon shift easily enough. Anyhow, I wanted to see the Mystery Commentator's last stand."
Lee raised his eyebrows. "You were here? They don't let visitors come and see the games."
Alicia smiled mischievously. "Well, donning an outsize Hogwarts robe and keeping my hood up got me in easily enough."
"Great! So you heard me?"
"Every word, Lee. Listen, I've got to get back to the Prophet before we go to press, but owl me after you leave, right?"
"Yeah. Alicia?"
"Mmm?" asked Alicia, checking her watch. "Damn, it's Saturn's equinox- five past three. Really, Lee, I must go-"
"I'm glad you came. I'll owl you."
She nodded. And in her old, oddly comforting matriachly way, she clapped him on the back. "That's my Lee. Well, I'll see you-"
"Why don't you come to the house party? Go on, 'Licia. It'll be fun."
She opened her mouth and then closed it. "Well... if you make a table walk again, I might," she said quietly.
"You remembered that?"
"Uh-huh."
"Just as long as you come too. I insist."
"You can't insist. I'm older than you."
"But not stronger, 'Licia." Lee said ominously.
"Don't call me 'Licia and I'll come," she said. "God, you're impossible."
"No, you're impossible!"
Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet made their way up to the castle for the house party. It was on that day, years after the War of the Commentators and barely a week before he left the school, that it was made perfectly clear. The Mystery Commentator of old hadn't ever left. He'd simply played on.
* * * * *
Oh my God, I've never written such a terrible ending. I think I'm going to die, or scream, or jump off a cliff to escape the inevitable flames from you, the indignant readers. I slaughtered my story! It was going so un-badly and I slaughtered it! Please don't kill me!
I'd like to thank each and every person who's reviewed this fic. You lot all rock. You've been copiously encouraging, and yet I let you all down by churning out this heinous excuse for a last chapter. But as I write this I'm home with a virus, so I'm probably delirious. Yeah. I've been having too many blackberry Soothers.
I would appreciate reviews. Please, if you're going to flame me, would you kind saying exactly what was wrong with my fic so I can fix it. And if you've written a Lee fic, mention it so I can read it. We need more Lee on ffn.net!
If you managed to overcome my miserable ending and liked this fic, you might enjoy the prequel, 'First Day', which doesn't have Alicia in it but is told from the POVs of the twins, Lee and Angelina.
Thank you to all my good reviewers. You've all been truly great. Laters!