Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit

Acknowledgments: Rpeh for the beta work.

3. Seek

Less than a year later, she almost screwed that up. Part of her was far too worried about how impossible Quintus would be to deal with if she lost to him to properly focus on the match at hand. But really, the less said about Quidditch during her fourth year at Hogwarts, the better.

They'd drawn Gryffindor in the first match of the year. While that was the most traditional schedule of Hogwarts Quidditch, the school had started varying the matches in the last decade.

Professor Farley had promoted Anna to the captaincy of the Slytherin team. The keeper had Floo'd Sylvie in France squealing when she'd gotten the letter. The commotion and her excitement caused her father to invite her over for a few days.

Anna had been gob smacked to meet her family. Thankfully, Sylvie thought, both Leo and Chloe were surprisingly well behaved. Although in Leo's case it seemed to be only because he instantly developed a crush on the older girl. Anna didn't seem to mind that Leo insisted on following her around nearly constantly. Something he'd normally only reserved for Sylvie.

The keeper looked rather alarmed when, on her second day in France, she wound up attempting to stop shots from Harry Potter, Sophie Button and Victoire Weasley while Sylvie and Titus Button attempted to play defense. It was difficult for Sylvie, as Titus seemed only interested in stopping Harry Potter. And given that both Sophie Button and Victoire Weasley were better chasers than her father, it was, well, a catastrophe.

It might have been slightly fairer if Quintus had elected to come. But he chose to stay at a summer Quidditch camp rather than visit. Anna talked only of the compliments paid to her by the professionals for the rest of her visit. But it was enough to excite both girls for the upcoming school season.

Unfortunately, that excitement was tempered when the autumn tryouts approached. James Nelson decided to give up the sport and focus his attention on his examinations and his duties as Head Boy, so only Anna and Sylvie remained from the year before.

And Anna seemed in over her head. Sylvie didn't mean that as an insult. She didn't think she could have done any better than her friend. And she did everything to try to help. But to construct a team out of what showed up for the tryouts turned out to be a surprisingly difficult endeavor.

There were some rumblings from her housemates that the keeper had no idea what she was doing, given that she ignored some of the better players. But Anna confided in Sylvie that she was looking to build a core that could improve and work together, and not just throw marginally talented seventh years on the Chaser line as Nott had done for his two years as Captain. She hoped the team could come together and improve a great deal as they grew more familiar with each other.

Piss-poor weather and Gryffindor's tendency to book the pitch for extended periods of time led to them not being nearly as prepared for the first match as any of them would have liked. They'd even had to petition McGonagall, along with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff team captains, that the Gryffindors were getting an inordinate amount of pitch time.

It clearly annoyed the headmistress, but she'd worked out a much more even schedule for everyone involved. Sylvie was rather pleased when she'd glared at Quintus and said she expected to not have to do this on a year-by-year basis and hoped they could come up with something on their own next year.

So, when they finally suited up for the first match that year they weren't nearly as prepared as they should have been. It was hard to blame Anna for that. There were a thousand circumstances that hindered it. The effort had all been there, if a bit erratic. And the new captain would take those lessons to heart.

In hindsight, the worst part was that they'd felt prepared for the match. Even Sylvie was so confident in their inevitable victory that she spent the final moments before the match preening herself in the locker room. While she could have passed off the intricate braid she'd put her hair into as essential for Quidditch, the blush and lipstick she'd applied certainly wasn't.

And she did spend far too long looking at herself in the mirror in the locker room, smirking at the uniform. She didn't know why it felt so nice to have her father's school number on her back, but something about the seven just seemed infinitely more correct than the six she'd worn the year before as a chaser.

Anna did her best to give a rousing speech before they took the pitch. It was met with middling success. Sylvie followed her onto the pitch, walking nearly at her side as they approached the opposing Gryffindors. She stopped a few paces before the captain did, allowing her to approach Quintus alone. The captains shook hands. Quintus seemed to be distracted by Sylvie as he kept looking past Anna toward her, and then the teams lined up for the opening draw.

Professor Longbottom was the official for that match. He waited for the chasers to line up before floating between Lydia Cole, Slytherin's new center chaser, and a seventh year Gryffindor named Ryan.

Lydia won the opening draw and weaved through the Gryffindor defense without much effort. Sylvie smiled brightly as a quick succession of passes led to Slytherin's first goal of the season.

But that was the highlight of the match. Once Gryffindor gained possession, they proceeded with a relentless assault on the Slytherin chasers. Two of the larger Gryffindor chasers immediately targeted Lydia and Samuel, the third-year left wing chaser. They kept it fairly even for the first ten minutes of play.

And then Gryffindor scored sixty unanswered. Anna did her best. She made at least twice as many saves as Gryffindor had goals, but the offense was just so relentless and so opportunistic that she couldn't keep up. The Gryffindor beaters even moved forward on the attack and Quintus especially was very effective at preventing the Slytherin chaser line from fully recovering.

It quickly descended into chaos. But Sylvie was a Potter and she was determined to win. She intercepted a Quaffle, nearly knocking a Gryffindor from his broom as she did, and sped away as quickly as she could.

She slowed when she entered the Gryffindor zone, waiting for the rest of the chasers to catch up. She fought off the urge to go straight for the hoops and take a shot. But she knew Anna needed a break. She needed to keep the play going as long as possible. She scanned the pitch for the Gryffindor seeker. He'd followed her back on the attack and taken up a position above the Gryffindor hoops.

She kept him in her sight as she relayed the Quaffle around. The chasers seemed to pick up on her tactic and as they continued to delay the Gryffindor offense. Sylvie fell back toward the center of the pitch and resumed the quest for the snitch.

The respite didn't last very long. Once the Gryffindors regained possession they continued to swarm the Slytherin defensive zone. Sylvie watched as the gap on the scoreboard grew and grew.

She knew what the growing gap meant. And her own words rang through her head as she flew around the pitch. She shot past Quintus and saw his smirking face as she streaked by. Victory was almost assured for him.

Her vision flashed red as anger flooded through her. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile off of his face. She blocked a shot from the left wing, knocking the Quaffle to Lydia and joined the chaser on the rush into the Gryffindor zone.

Two of the Gryffindor chasers collapsed onto Lydia, nearly colliding with her as they streaked up the pitch. Lydia dropped the Quaffle but Sylvie dived and caught it. She shot upwards and faked to the left hoop. The Gryffindor keeper fell for it and she hurled the Quaffle toward the right hoop. It ricocheted off of the post and through.

She spun around and saw the Gryffindor seeker was floating above the center of the pitch, rapidly scanning the field for the snitch. She saw Quintus yelling at him, goading him into finding the golden ball faster. She could hear his words, as long as she was helping the chasers he needed to focus on the snitch.

The worst part was she knew he was right. A quick scan of the pitch was all she allotted for the snitch as she tried to steal the Quaffle. She missed on the grab, but it distracted the Gryffindors long enough that Slytherin regained possession. Sylvie flew to rejoin the attack but a gasp from the crowd caught her attention.

She spun around on her broom, scanning the pitch for any glint of gold or the Gryffindor seeker. She found her opposite first; he was streaking toward the Gryffindor hoops, diving as he flew. She immediately pushed herself in that direction.

A piece of advice her father had given her rang through her head. Even if you don't see the snitch it's still a good idea to chase the other seeker if need be. Many would focus so intently on it that you could follow their line of sight to the snitch and often wind up on a better line. And now she did just that. She followed his eyes to the glinting golden ball circling around the base of the center hoop.

She pushed her broom as fast as it would go. She caught up with her opposite after a few moments, and then slowly pushed ahead of him as the snitch continued to circle around the base of the hoop, rising up a few centimeters with every circle.

The seekers reached it at the same time. Sylvie cut inside of the larger Gryffindor and lunged for it. The Snitch reversed as they both lunged. She could already tell that the Gryffindor seeker didn't have the length to get the ball on his first pass. But he'd have the better line to it on the second pass if she didn't catch it. She cut back and threw herself from the broom as it changed direction.

She felt the familiar weight of the golden ball in the palm of her hand as she squeezed it for all it was worth. A second later she was skidding on her back across the pitch. But it didn't matter, her eyes flashed to the scoreboard as she held her hand up. Professor Longbottom landed near her and blew his whistle in one loud, shrill note and Sylvie watched as the scoreboard changed. Two-twenty to two hundred was a victory that would make most teams cringe. But it was still a victory.

Her teammates landed around her, Lydia helped her to her feet as Anna landed next to her and hugged her, laughing loudly as the entire team took turns grasping her right hand, the snitch still locked in it.

Her teammates spun her around, cheering and hugging her for a few minutes. When they finally let go, she was standing next to Anna as Quintus landed. His expression was blank, hiding any sense of his true feelings from most anyone there. Sylvie may have imagined that she thought he looked sick, but either way that made her feel even better about herself as he offered his hand to Anna.

"Good game," he said.

"You too," Anna responded, shaking his hand with a magnanimous smirk. Quintus nodded and didn't linger. He kicked his broom back into the air and gathered up his team before removing them from the pitch as the Slytherin team continued to celebrate.

Deep down Sylvie supposed they all knew by that point that the year wasn't going to go very well. They'd been outplayed in almost every facet of the game. But they'd won. And for that night that was cause for celebration.

But then came the match against Ravenclaw in February. And sure, the below freezing temperatures and the icy blizzard didn't help, but four eighty to two sixty made it sound closer than it was.

And it was only that close because the Ravenclaw chasers stopped trying to score once they got to four hundred. Really, by the first hour Sylvie was debating casting a warming charm on herself just to be disqualified from play, as no magical aides were allowed during Quidditch.

But that seemed to be the coward's way out. Of course, she could argue her father had gotten away with it during a rainstorm one year, but that seemed like too much effort. And he didn't think she'd approve of something that could be constituted cheating. At least his magic had evened the playing field more than giving him an advantage.

By the second hour of fighting the frozen winds, most of the players seemed like they'd rather be anywhere else.

By hour three they collectively got their second wind. Sylvie figured it was just with delusions that continuing to move and exercise would somehow warm their frigid bodies. The chasers in particular started to, more or less, play catch with each other rather than attempting to score.

Both keepers were flying around the hoops, seeming oblivious to the game going on around them, if it could be called a game. And all four beaters seemed to spend more time avoiding the Bludgers than actually hitting them.

By the three-and-a-half-hour mark, most of the spectators gave up on the match. Sylvie watched them leave the stadium, actually finding herself envious of their ability to do so. If she was being honest, she was fairly surprised most of them lasted as long as they did in that weather.

By the four-hour mark she decided she was going to die on her broom. She wondered if blood could literally freeze in her veins. Or if the water in her eyes could freeze and if they'd just fall out at that point.

At some point she assumed she'd just fall off of her broom. She could picture it in her head. It was fairly comical. She turned into a popsicle, a Sylviesicle, she giggled to herself, and fell down to the pitch. Some cartoon men walked by and picked her up by the frozen broom handle and carried her off to a fire to thaw.

She spent the next ten minutes or so circling the pitch, trying to stay as much out of the wind as she could, as she thought of anything but Quidditch. She'd make sure to leave that point out when she relayed the story of the match to her father.

Of course, she didn't want to even think about the match while she was playing in it, she highly doubted she'd want to spend much more time relaying it than she needed to. It was, she realized, the first time in her life that Quidditch wasn't fun. In fact, no one on the pitch, or in the stands, seemed to be enjoying themselves in the least.

And then she saw it, glittering golden against the falling snow, no more than twenty yards from her. She turned her broom, her thoughts seeming to lag behind her movements and rush off toward it. It darted toward her, diving as it grew closer. She scanned the pitch for the Ravenclaw seeker. She found him in moments, he was watching her from his own end of the pitch, making no real attempt to give chase for the snitch. His expression indicated he wanted the match to end as soon as possible.

She turned her attention fully back to the golden ball and dived after it. It put up very little fight and she eventually caught up to it and clasped both of her hands around it, not wanting to give it any chance to get away. Once it stopped struggling in her hands she flew straight to the official, Professor Vector for this match.

Most of the players weren't bothering with the post-match formalities and were instead diving straight for the changing rooms, eager to get to anywhere that was warm. Professor Vector just looked at her and nodded, confirming the catch and the Ravenclaw win. The professor didn't even bothering with the whistle, and they flew off together.

Sylvie landed and entered the Slytherin clubhouse and gave the password to enter. The house clubhouses were a fairly recent addition. They money for the permanent magical renovations had been donated by her father, Titus Button, and a few other league players. And while she was thankful, part of her was glad her surname wasn't on it.

The locker rooms were set up like most professional ones, with large wooden cubbies for each of the players ringing the room. The far wall of the Slytherin one housed a fireplace, in which Lydia Cole was igniting logs as she shivered in her damp Quidditch robes. The rest of the team was going through the act of changing rather than magically drying the uniforms. There was something mental about getting out of wet clothing. It felt a lot better than using magic.

Each of the clubhouses also housed some comfortable furniture around the fireplace, bathroom facilities for each gender, with permanently disillusioned shower stalls for privacy, and a small kitchen that the elves kept stocked.

Sylvie had her uniform top over her head before she was halfway to her locker. It felt frozen, the cold emanating off it as she got it over her head. She tossed it onto the bottom of her locker, knowing the elves would launder it, and then took a moment to hang her broom up. After so long in the icy conditions she should have immediately done maintenance on it, but she was too cold. Her gloves and pads joined her top a moment later. Her boots followed.

Finally, she shimmied out of her uniform pants, kicking them into the cubby as well. It wasn't until she started pulling her hair out of her braid that she realized she was putting on a bit of a show as she stood in the locker room only wearing a sports bra, black panties, and her knee-high silver and green socks.

She could feel eyes on her as she felt the blush rise up over her body. Oh well, she thought as she turned toward the bathroom, it was just another thing to play up to. She was the Princess, after all, and the Princess needed to be confident. Of course, it was a lot easier to be confident when she wasn't shivering.

And it wasn't like it was totally new. Perhaps all at once it was. She tried to convince herself that partial nudity wasn't overly uncommon. Sure, they changed around each other. But she herself had never been quite that exposed in her life.

She stepped swiftly to the bathroom, noticing out of the corner of her eye that three heads turned as she walked by. Samuel, one of the beaters Marcus, and Anna all watched her move toward the bathroom. Lydia, Dove, and Charles didn't.

Samuel and Marcus made sense to her as she opened the door to the women's bathroom. She grabbed a couple of the fluffy green towels from the shelf and one of the robes and moved to the third stall. The one that she'd always used whenever she showered after practice or a match.

But Samuel and Marcus were both growing boys. And she was, well, the Princess. That was only natural. She actually liked that they looked, although she made a mental note to be more discreet changing in the future.

She turned on the tap and waited a few minutes for the steam to start to build up as she stripped out of her remaining clothing and stepped into the hot stream of the shower. The warmth of it was shocking at first, but her body adjusted quickly and she felt the tension drain out of her muscles.

Anna was a little odd though. But she had a very protective nature and was quickly turning into a motherly figure on the team. She was likely just watching out for her seeker and making sure that no one was doing anything inappropriate. Well, no one but her at least.

She grabbed some of her soap and started to lather up, rinsing off after a few moments and then repeating the process. When she finally felt warm and couldn't feel any more frozen grime on herself she grabbed her shampoo and washed her hair as well.

After fifteen more minutes of enjoying the never-ending supply of scalding hot water she turned it off and grabbed the first green towel. Ten minutes after that she emerged back into the clubhouse with the robe wrapped tightly around her body and another towel around her head to find that the team was all still there.

She blushed a bit as she drew some stares but ignored them, regretting that she hadn't brought her wand or a change of clothing with her into the bathroom. But it only took her a minute to gather up both and disappeared back into the bathroom.

Sylvie transfigured the uniform she'd worn down to the match into something more similar to her pajamas. Which consisted of a pair of cotton pants, dark green decorated with golden snitches that flickered around as she moved, and a soft, black, long-sleeved shirt.

She spent a few moments brushing out her hair in the mirror in the bathroom before she returned to the main room of the clubhouse.

Marcus and Dove had left, and Anna was nowhere to be seen. But Samuel, Lydia and Charles were still present. Charles and Lydia had both pulled chairs over toward the fire and were both reading. Charles looked absorbed in his Arithmancy book while Lydia looked rather bored at the Defense text.

"What smells good?" Sylvie asked as she looked around.

"Anna's making something," Samuel said. He was sitting on middle of the couch, leaning over the small coffee table and scratching away at an essay.

"Yum," she said. They could have gotten the elves to cook, but Anna liked to do it herself. She said it was relaxing. Sylvie didn't get it, but she wasn't sure she could even boil an egg if asked. In fact, she wasn't really sure if boiling an egg was supposed to be hard or not. Scrambling? Poaching? Frying? Well, it didn't matter, she wouldn't have been able to do any of them.

"Did anyone hear what she was making?" Charles asked as he turned the page.

"I didn't," Samuel responded. Sylvie walked over to the couch and threw herself down next to Samuel. Samuel peered over at her for a moment. His gaze seemed to linger and she almost commented, but she saw him flush red as well.

She looked away, her gaze turning to the fire, as it occurred to her that he was likely thinking of how he just saw her in her underwear. She pushed that thought out of her head and did her best to maintain a haughty exterior about it. If she made it seem like it wasn't a big deal then perhaps they'd all continue to ignore it.

It was only about another ten minutes before Anna walked back in from the small connected kitchen. She was carrying a large iron pan and had a few bowls and plates floating behind her. She placed the pan on the table that Samuel was using to write his essay, he wisely rolled up the parchment as she approached, and the plates all landed around it, silverware distributing itself as she went.

Sylvie leaned forward and grabbed the plate that was the nearest to her as the serving spoon in the pan shifted toward her. Anna had stir fried up a great deal of chicken and vegetables and made quite a bit of rice. Sylvie piled a generous amount of it onto her plate before offering the serving spoon to Lydia.

Anna walked over toward the couch and it only took the briefest of looks at Samuel to get him to slide down to the end, allowing her to sit next to Sylvie as everyone served themselves. Most of them remembered to thank their Captain before they started eating.

"This is great," Charles said with his mouth full. Sylvie glared at him, but no one else commented on his obvious lack of manners so she continued to take dainty bites of mostly rice and vegetables.

"It's fine," Anna shrugged. She summoned a pitcher of water and glasses from the kitchen and poured one for each of her remaining teammates.

"I like it," Lydia said. "I wish the elves would vary the cuisine more."

"Me too," Sylvie said. Anna snorted.

"What?" Samuel asked, leaning forward to peer between the two girls.

"Nothing," Anna shook her head. "I was just thinking about dinner at Casa De La Potter."

"Chez. Je suis Francais. Je viens de France. Je ne viens pas d'Espagne. Tete de noeud," Sylvie said.

"Whatever you say, Princess," Charles said.

"What's her house like?" Lydia asked.

"Well, uh," Anna said, looking over at Sylvie. The seeker shrugged her shoulders and speared a piece of chicken on a fork. "It's nice. Quaint. Her parents really make you feel at home."

"Oh come on, that tells us nothing," Charles said.

"Well, I will say, I've never eaten better," Anna said. "You should have seen the meals their elves made. I swear they had this peanut butter dessert thing that I'd double my body weight if it was available daily."

"Wait, elves?" Lydia asked.

"They have two. And they're a couple. They're kind of adorable in their little uniforms. And really funny. They're just around most of the time they don't hide like most house elves."

"Three," Sylvie corrected.

"What? I only saw the two," Anna started.

"The third is at our London house. He's weird," Sylvie said. "And doesn't cook nearly as well as the ones in France. Don't tell him I said that."

"Well, anyway, in addition to that, my God, the wine," Anna said. "Lunch and dinner! It's amazing Sylvie isn't already an alcoholic."

"Well, she is French," Samuel said.

"It was only because you were there. They wanted to impress you. I hadn't really invited over a Hogwarts friend before," Sylvie said. It wasn't strictly true. Emma and Florence, two of the other girls in her year, had visited once or twice. And Clara was over fairly often. Well, often enough that even her parents had noticed the frostiness between the girls for the last year. But she visited mostly because her parents visited.

"Because Harry Potter needs to impress people?" Samuel laughed.

"It never hurts to be a good host," Sylvie said.

"It's reminding me of what this needs though," Anna sighed, gesturing to the stir fry.

"What's that?" Lydia asked.

"Wine," Anna said, looking at Sylvie. The other Slytherin teammates looked at her as well.

"What?" Sylvie asked.

"If anyone can get us a bottle of wine, it's the one with the three elves. And also the one that can't get in trouble," Charles said.

"It's not like they'd give me any," Sylvie said. Although she'd never asked. But they were also rather protective of the wine cellar.

"Oh please, who tells you no?" Anna teased. Sylvie scoffed at her friend.

"They wouldn't even come if I called. See! Ruby! Onyx!" Neither of the elves appeared. She paused and then added, almost as a joke, "Kreacher!"

As if on cue there was a loud pop and a dour elf appeared. Sylvie really only recognized him by the locket around his neck. The rest of his uniform, which may have been a pillowcase at one time and would have made the elves in Bordeaux cringe looked rather dingy.

"Mistress summoned Kreacher?" the elf said. Sylvie blinked in shock as her friends started to giggle.

"Uhm, hi," Sylvie said.

"Did mistress need something?" Kreacher asked, looking annoyed at being summoned.

"A couple bottles of wine would be nice?" Sylvie said. Kreacher narrowed his eyes and looked at her, and then at her friends.

"Mistress is not of age," Kreacher said.

"Well sure, but it's just a little wine," Sylvie said. Kreacher stared at her for a moment and then he was gone with another loud pop. Which resulted in more laughter from her friends.

"Tough luck, mistress" Charles laughed.

"I think I prefer princess. Well, at least I can unfavorably compare him to Chloe," Sylvie frowned, blushing and feeling stupid for even attempting to summon the elf. Anna chuckled at her comment but the rest of the team didn't seem to get it.

But then, a moment later, there was a series of pops and wine glasses appeared across the table, and then a with a louder pop Kreacher appeared, holding six bottles of wine in his arms. He placed them down on the table and turned his attention to Sylvie.

"Kreacher never did congratulate mistress on becoming a Slytherin," the elf said. He gave her a bow and disappeared in an instant.

"You are the best," Anna said, to both Sylvie and the not present elf. She peered at all of the bottles as if she had a clue, and then looked at Sylvie for guidance.

"That one," Sylvie said, pointing at one she recognized the label on the bottle. It took Anna a couple of attempts to actually get the cork out of it, but she managed. She poured out glasses of it, emptying the bottle for the five of them. Sylvie picked up the first filled glass by the stem and took a sip from it before going back to finishing her food.

The team stayed and chatted for a few hours. Sylvie slid down slightly, until her head was nearly resting on the arm of the couch. She curled her legs beneath her and at some point her feet wound up in Anna's lap. She stopped listening to the conversation. Anna was tracing her hand up and down Sylvie's calf when the door to the clubhouse opened.

"There you are," Professor Farley snapped. She was probably three or four years older than Sylvie's father and had been the potions mistress for the last decade. She wore an annoyed expression, which was unusual for her. Their head of house was normally very mellow and very helpful.

"It can't be that close to lights out," Anna said.

"Fifteen minutes, Miss Chase," Professor Farley said. Anna squirmed out from under Sylvie's legs and stood as the potions mistress peered at the table.

"You've been in here drinking since the end of the match?" Professor Farley asked.

"Uhm," Anna said.

"Ten points from each of you. Now get back to the common room," the professor said as she approached the table, peering down at the bottles on it. Lydia was the first out, nearly sprinting from the scene of the crime. Charles and Samuel followed.

"It was my fault, Professor, you don't need to punish them," Anna said.

"Enough, Miss Chase," Professor Farley said. "Promoting underage drinking is not the behavior I would expect from a team Captain. Get back to the common room immediately. Miss Potter, a moment please?"

"Yes Professor," Sylvie said. Professor Farley waited until Anna left the room to continue.

"Detention on Wednesday night," Professor Farley said.

"What? Why? What did I do?" Sylvie frowned, pouting. Professor Farley crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her for a moment before reaching out toward one of the three remaining bottles of wine. She picked one up and held it up, label toward Sylvie.

"This Burgundy is older than you," Professor Farley laughed. "It's not hard to tell where they got it from."

"I," Sylvie started but Professor Farley shook her head and started moving to the door, with the bottle of wine.

"My office, seven o'clock, Wednesday. Your potions marks certainly won't benefit from an afternoon of drinking," Professor Farley said. Sylvie followed her out of the room and immediately regretted that decision. She fumbled for her wand but Anna stepped alongside of her and put an arm around her as they walked back to the castle.

When they returned to the clubhouse a few days later when practice resumed, Anna and Sylvie both laughed when they found the two remaining bottles of wine tucked into the kitchen with a note saying to be responsible and save them for something worth celebrating.

Neither of them thought beating Hufflepuff in the spring was much of a cause for celebration. Although it was the first time that they played a complete match. And one that they were proud of as a whole. Still, they ended her fourth year on a positive note, with a core of players that expected things to improve.