Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I seek to reap financial benefits from this piece of fiction. I am merely a fan yearning to manipulate Rowling's characters in such a way as to entertain myself and others.
-the story-
Sarra Evans wasn't one for jokes. She especially didn't like jokes that were played on her. She really especially absolutely hated jokes that involved her being covered head to toe in paint.
Closing the door to the mop closet, she quickly walked back down the hall from whence she had come, dripping canary yellow paint along the way. Rounding the corner she met face to face the boy who had given her the directions to the closet in the first place.
"How was the meeting Evans? Make the Hufflepuff team did you?" Marcus Flint, was without a doubt the biggest git Sarra had ever had the displeasure to know, and unluckily for her he had just succeeded in making her feel like a fool. Taking out her wand she pointed it at herself muttering, "Scourgify"
"No, Flint. They told me that you did, and to congratulate you they wanted me to give you this, Fulvustaxus!" A yellow badger erupted from her wand, and given its confusion at being removed from whatever habitat it had previously been a part of, the badger turned quite angry and thus began attacking Flint's face and neck. The rest of the Slytherin quidditch team, who had assembled behind Flint, quickly dispersed, though a few stayed to help rid their captain of the pesky creature.
Turning on her heel, Sarra's face connected with the chest of her head of house. "Miss Evans," drawled out Professor Snape. "It seems to me that you are attempting to sabotage your own house team. Am I correct?"
"If by sabotage you mean, exact my revenge then…yes. I am doing that."
"Revenge, Miss Evans?" Snape cocked and eyebrow, disbelievingly.
"Professor Snape, I do not appreciate being lied to, and covered in paint, merely because I have expressed an interest in my house's quidditch team." Sarra pointed at the boy who was now out of breath, tightly holding a badger no bigger than a small guinea pig in his hands. "They tricked me!"
Snape chortled, "Now, Miss Evans, you and I both know that Mr. Flint and the rest of the team are incapable of such profound ideas. But you on the other hand are quite capable of producing a very large and very angry badger and setting it loose onto a student. For that I must deduct 15 points from Slytherin and give you detention."
"WHAT?!" Sarra was appalled! "Detention? Professor, I was mentally and emotionally bullied by these, these…imbeciles! Certainly you aren't going to punish me?! Look! There is yellow paint on the floor! Right there!"
"Miss Evans, your attack on Mr. Flint was all that I witnessed, therefore the only act that I can punish. You are to report to my classroom at 8:30 this evening, understood?" Snape didn't even wait for the girl to respond, he turned around twirling his cloak expertly and left towards the dungeons.
Noticing Flint's smug look, Sarra rounded on him. "Don't think this is over yet Flint. I will be on the quidditch team whether you like it or not."
Flint let out a guffaw that made him sound even more ridiculous than his normal voice, "You'll never be on the team Evans, you are a girl. Every knows girls can't play quidditch, that's why there are no girls in the pros!"
"What are you talking about? Holyhead Harpies? The French National team? There are LOADS of women in professional quidditch!"
Flint just smiled, "Harpies lost last week to Puddlemore, and the French team has never made it to the finals! So, like I said, girls can't play quidditch."
He turned and left, with the badger tucked into his breast pocket, leaving Sarra in the middle of the hallway, deflated but not defeated. 'I will be on that team'
'8:15. Bugger.' She really needed to finish this paper on 'Mundane Plants, and their Magical Uses,' but Sarra didn't want to be late to…detention. The word made her bristle. "UGH"
"What's wrong?" Sarra had met Amanda Pruitt (a Ravenclaw, last month during Herbology when they had been partnered up to re-pot mandrakes. They were immediately best friends.
"I have detention in fifteen minutes with Snape. I'm sorry that I won't be able to help finish this essay with you." Sarra dolefully up her books and parchment, and put them in her satchel.
"Whaaat? You will tell me all about it tomorrow at breakfast, alright? Don't worry about this paper, I'll finish it." Amanda stood to hug her friend, and watched her trudge out of the library and towards the dungeons.
'Stupid Flint, and his stupid team. Stupid Snape! Stupid detention!... Stupid life!' Sarra glared at the black door that signified her doom for the next hour.
She raised her hand to knock but found that the door was opening due to the Boy-Who-Lived and his redheaded friend exiting, followed by Snape calling after them, "So, keep your sass at the door, Potter!"
Seeing Sarra at the door he stepped aside allowing her entrance.
"So what did they do?" She set her book bag down, and took a seat at one of the black topped benches, while Snape began straightening the turned in assignments on his desk.
"They, Miss Evans, decided to backtalk me during class, so I had them clean all the tables. Topsides, undersides…no magic."
"Oh, ok. So am I going to clean the blackboards? Or, the cupboards, then?" Sarra rolled up her sleeves.
"No. No, I have a different project for you. Get your belongings and follow me."
Sarra followed her head of house out of the dungeons, out of the school, across the grounds, and to the quidditch pitch.
"Do you have a broom?" He asked.
"What? No, why?" Sarra was a bit dumbfounded by the question. 'What kind of detention is this?'
"Go get one from the equipment shed." Snape gestured to where the Slytherin locker rooms were located.
Upon returning, Sarra gave voice to her question, "What kind of detention is this?"
"Miss Evans, if I am going to invest my time into helping you onto the Slytherin quidditch team, I must-of course-assess your capabilities." Snape walked out onto the pitch where the ball chest, some extra quaffles, as well as an older witch with a broom, were situated. "Madam Hooch. This is Miss Sarra Evans."
The older witch extended her hand. "What position do you play, Miss Evans?"
"Chaser."
"Alright, then!" Madam Hooch picked up one of the Quaffles and tossed it to Sarra.
"Let's see what you can do!" With that Madam Hooch, picked up her own broom and kicked off into the air.
After an hour or so of watching Sarra score goal, after goal, after goal, Snape decided that there really wasn't much else he needed to see. "That is enough, Miss Evans." He stood from the bench where he was seated and made his way to the middle of the Pitch, where Sarra and Madam Hooch had touched down.
"Miss Evans, I am impressed. Here…" Snape flicked his wand and a patch appeared. It was green with a silver S on it much like the emblem on her cloak, only it had two brooms crossed behind it, and the word 'CHASER' written underneath. Thus, signifying that she was, in fact, on the Slytherin quidditch team.
Taking the embroidered piece of cloth from Snape's hand, Sarra grinned. To hell with those boys telling her she couldn't be on the team, she was! She had defeated Flint without bloodshed, apart from the badger. Sarra was so overjoyed that she couldn't help but run to Madam Hooch and give her a hug. She turned to Snape, and before the man could so much as sneer, Sarra had also embraced him.
"Miss Evans, release me. I believe you have completed your detention. You may return to your dormitory." Snape twirled his cloak, and headed back towards the school.
Madam Hooch picked up her broom, and the quidditch chest, and left towards the school giving Sarra a nod of approval, "You play well, kiddo."
Sarra decided to stay on the pitch for a bit longer. It was only nine o'clock, plus, she was way too excited to go back to her dingy dorm room under the lake.
Ten minutes passed and Sarra felt sufficiently calmed down, so, she picked up her broom as well as the quaffles, and headed to the equipment shed to return the borrowed items.
On her way out of the stadium, she heard voices coming from the Gryffindor locker room. Curious, Sarra walked across the hall pressing her ear to the door.
"Really!" The younger boy's voice was heavy with uncertainty.
"Really." The older boy answered, in the most lovely of Scots English Sarra had ever heard. "We need tae teach you a wee bit before we put you out on the pitch, y'ken?"
Sarra quickly dashed across the hallway into the Hufflepuff locker room, as she heard the boys approach the door. She did manage a quick peek at the two boys as they walked past the doorway.
She immediately recognized the younger boy as famed Harry "The Boy-Who-Lived" Potter. Black hair, green eyes, lightning bolt scar. All the usual stuff. But he wasn't the one that caused Sarra's breath to catch in her throat, and her mind to go all fuzzy. It was the older Gryffindor who fascinated Sarra.
He was quite tall and lean. He had shortish brown hair, and brown eyes (which were much darker compared to her own rather dark hazel ones).
Sarra stayed in the Hufflepuff locker room for probably thirty minutes, willing her heart to stop leaping from her chest, mesmerized by the glimpse of the gorgeous young man. She thought that maybe she could get another glimpse in before heading back up to the school.
"Hey, wotch-ooof!"
Sarra had barely noticed that she had knocked her own brother over on her way out of the locker room. She snapped back to earth, and gave Harry a sweet smile and offered out her hand to help him, when he swatted it away saying, "No! I can get myself up, thanks. You'd probably just help me up to push me down again anyways; I don't need anything from any sickly, slimy, Slytherin. Thank you!" He got up, and pushed past Sarra and into the Gryffindor locker rooms.
Sarra stood there agape. 'That twit!' She almost seriously considered marching right into the locker room and given his ear a good tweaking, not to mention a good swat to the back of his head for calling her slimy She may have done, had it not been for the sound of a quaffle being thrown a tad clumsily and landing right behind her
"Oh! Sorry about that." The older boy that Sarra had mooned over earlier landed right in front of her, staring a bit. He seemed to come to himself rather quickly though, "Uhm, My name is Oliver Wood." offering Sarra a handshake.
"Sarra Evans."
Oliver cocked an eyebrow quizzically, "What house are you in, cause I dinnae think I've seen you before."
Sarra indicated the patch on her robe.
"Oh, aye. Yes…Slytherin. I see. Yes. So, what are y'doing out here at the pitch by yerself? D'ye play quidditch?"
Sarra smiled, "I do actually. In fact, I just had a detention with Snape that resulted in a quidditch tryout. You happen to have just shaken hands with Slytherin's newest chaser!"
Oliver looked at her blankly.
"Are you shocked, because I'm a girl?"
"No! No, no no! I am shocked that they let you on the team! There has nae ever been a girl on the Slytherin team! You must be pretty good." Oliver laughed.
"Oh, yeah, so, you see, Flint doesn't know yet. Professor Snape had Madame Hooch test me, and he put me on the team. So, as you can imagine the first practice will be a tad interesting."
"So..." He said picking up the quaffle at her feet. "Why dinnae we practice some? Could be a wee bit o'fun" He mounted his broom and kicked off heading for the goal posts. Sarra ran to grab a broom, and followed him into the air.
Once he reached the posts, Oliver tucked the quaffle under his arm. He flew straight towards her, veering away at the last minute.
She followed close behind him, watching his moves and mimicking them. First to the right, then to the left. Then to the left again, followed by a steep climb, and then a fast drop to the right. He formed a pattern without realizing it. She let him continue with this pattern until the third drop, when she moved to the right a bunch and veered to the left into Oliver nearly knocking him off his broom, but successfully gaining the quaffle.
"What position do you play? You are clearly not a chaser!" She began to fly circles around him.
"Aye, I am nae a chaser. I'm a keeper!"
'I bet you are.' Sarra thought, though she quickly regained herself. "Well then! Go fly into your little hoops and let's see if I can get a score off of you, huh?"
"Right, ye wish!" Oliver flew up to the hoops, and got ready.
Sarra looked at each of the three hoops, making her decision carefully. She successfully faked him out, by making out as though she was aiming for the center hoop, but actually scoring in the hoop to Oliver's right. Oliver looked at the ground. Staring at the quaffle that sat motionless, some fifty feet below.
"Wow." He slowly turned to face the young woman who had just succeeded in making a score off of him. He was astonished to say the least. "Flint would be a right idiot if he kicked you off."
Looking at his watch, he noticed it was nearly eleven which meant curfew. "Let me walk you back to the school, I'll just be a second." They gently descended down to the pitch, and returned their brooms to their appropriate places. He practically ran to the Gryffindor common room to get his belongings. "Ready?"
"Ready."
And they were off, each sneaking furtive glances at the other as they made their way back.
-end-