Chapter 4

On the morning of the Quidditch match, the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall with thunderous applause. Also Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were dressed in gold and red colours.

"I cannot believe that Potter has a Firebolt," muttered Adrian Pucey, who sat next to Eleanor and looked gloomy over at the Gryffindor table.

"Potter has no patience. If he catches the Snitch before any of their Chasers score a goal we will still win the cup," said Eleanor, without looking up from her novel. In her free hand she held her cup of tea and took a nip.

"We were crazy to allow Malfoy on the team," went Pucey on. "I cannot believe Flint would actually accept a bribe for someone without a shred of talent."

"Since Flint was probably fathered by a troll after his father had a drop too much, I am not surprised." Eleanor licked the tip of her finger and turned the page.

"Can you please stop being yourself right this instant? This is the Quidditch Cup we're talking about," snapped Pucey, who pulled the novel straight out Eleanors hands.

The brown eyes of Eleanor flashed fire with restrained fury. "Did you just grab my novel, Pucey? Out of my hands? Are you really that stupid?" asked Eleanor in a calm and low voice that was stripped of any emotion.

Slowly Pucey looked at the novel in his hand and came to realise what he'd done.

"I am sorry, Nell." He shook his head and took a deep breath. "I don't know what came over me."

Eleanor snorted and took her novel back. "Probably just nerves, Pucey. That mixed with brain loss and low blood sugar. Eat your porridge and drag that absolutely fine ass of yours to the Quidditch field."

She thumbed back to the page she had been. Across her a smile slowly appeared on Pucey's face. His green eyes glittered.

"Did you just actually give me a compliment?"

"Eat your porridge, Pucey."

After Adrian had wolfed down his porridge, the colour had come back to his cheeks and he looked a bit better than before. He took a deep breath and stood up, carefully ignoring the Gryffindor table.

"Don't fall off your broom, Pucey," said Eleanor, who took a moment to look at him sincerely.

"I'll do my best, Nell. Cheer for me?" His green eyes looked at her pleading.

"Only when you deserve it," she teased him, leaving Adrian grinning before he left the Great Hall.

Eleanor sighed and took a sip of her lukewarm tea. She pulled a face and glanced at the Gryffindor table.

She just witnessed how Wood, the fanatic Keeper for Gryffindor and their captain, urging his teammates to inspect the Quidditch field. Potter just barely had the chance to put a sausage in his mouth before being ushered out.

From her place at Slytherin's table she couldn't distinguish the difference between the twins, but she thought George - or was it Fred? - looked paler under his freckles.

Before following the rest of the school out to the Quidditch field, Eleanor went back to her dormitory to fetch her shawl. The sun may be tempting, but Quidditch finals could take hours and the weather in Scotland could take a turn for the worse in the blink of an eye.

She was just in time to witness the presentation of her houseteam.

"And there's the Slytherin team, under the command of Marcus Flint. He made a few adjustments to the formation and apparently he went for force instead of talent -"

"Oi, Jordan, you prejudiced brat, shut up!" yelled Berenice Yaxley. Her white-blond hair was pulled into a tight braid and her grey eyes shone with fury. On her cheeks she had drawn green snakes, the symbol of their house.

"Can you believe it?" she muttered, when Eleanor slipped in the seat beside her and crossed her legs. "He cannot even recognise some players who have been on the team for years! Adjustments to the formation, is he having a laugh? Some of our players actually work out!" she yelled again, her voice getting lost in the noise of the screaming of the whole school, packed here together in the stadium.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and focused on the game. Madame Hooch blew her whistle and fourteen brooms shot into the air.

"I am surprised to see you here, Nell" said Berenice, focusing her eyes onto her friend. "Didn't you want to take this opportunity to do a long study session in the empty library, with OWL-exams so near?"

"I felt a sudden urge of house pride. It was so rare that my body didn't know how to resist it," answered Eleanor smoothly. She ran a hand through her hair and focused on the players in front of her.

"Well, you picked the right match to watch," retorted Berenice, while vigorously waving her Slytherin flag.

It was one of the most violent Quidditch games Eleanor had ever witnessed. Marcus Flint wasn't ashamed to lower himself to dirty tactics. Much to Berenice's dismay, who yelled furiously at Flint and the rest of the team, cursing them for besmearing Slytherin's name of cunningness.

"What idiot would grab another player's head! Montague, you absolute tosser, do you need to loan Potter's glasses or are you just thick in the head?" screamed Berenice, forgetting all her dignity.

"Calm down, Bunny," hushed Eleanor, pulling Berenice down on her seat.

"Don't call me that in public," Berenice snapped. "I just hate the fact that our team cannot think strategically for even one minute, let alone on the most important game of this year. No wonder that Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff decided to cheer for the stupid Gryffindorks today. If anyone else was our Quidditch Captain, we would had better players and a bigger chance to win."

"You mean, when you would have been Quidditch Captain and star Chaser," teased Eleanor with a smile.

Berenice snorted. "The only decent player on the team right now is Adrian, and maybe Malfoy with any proper training. Sometimes I believe that Snape hates every Hogwarts student, also us Slytherins. Why else would he have made Flint Captain? He cannot recognise Quidditch talent even if it bit him in the nose."

Eleanor shrugged her shoulders and didn't reply. Truth was that she just thought professor Snape was as ruthless as Flint himself, only he was better at disguising it.

Lucian Bole, one of Slytherin's Beaters, hit Alicia Spinnet in the head with his Beater's club. Eleanor was shocked when Spinnet tumbled down a few meters.

When George Weasley hit Bole a few moments later with his elbow in his face, Eleanor couldn't suppress the feeling that she was proud of the Gryffindor. Bole really deserved that one.

"Come on, Malfoy. Just find the bloody Snitch," muttered Eleanor. Since Flint and Montague were more interested in cutting off the Gryffindor's players instead of scoring, Adrian Pucey had the hard job of trying to snatch the Quaffle and score.

It was 40-10 for Gryffindor. The sooner it ended, the better. Madame Hooch gave Gryffindor penalties after knocking the Gryffindor's Watcher with two Bludgers to the stomach when the Quaffle was not in the goal area.

Berenice was beside herself with anger. "You daft idiots! You are sabotaging our chance of winning the Cup! Stop with this peacocking and start playing!"

Unfortunately, nobody on the Slytherin Quidditch team listened to her. With horror Eleanor saw how their house team threw away any chance they had of winning the Cup.

"Oh bloody tosser," muttered Eleanor, when she saw that Potter had seen a glimpse of the Snitch. Three quarters of the school screamed their lungs out, hoping that Potter would catch it.

"Come on, Malfoy, be faster," wished Eleanor, against all rational thoughts.

But instead of trying to catch the Snitch before Potter, Malfoy lowered himself to grab the tail of Potter's Firebolt, to prevent Potter of going after the Snitch.

Berenice cursed loudly and even Eleanor felt a sting of fear. Would it result in Malfoy getting disqualified?

It only got the Gryffindors a penalty, but luckily Spinnet was so furious that she missed and lost the Quaffle.

"Yes, Pucey!" Eleanor leaped and saw how Adrian caught the Quaffle and stormed right onto the rings.

"Pucey scores! 70-20 for Gryffindor!"

Eleanor and Berenice cheered loudly, just like the rest of the Slytherins. Finally, the Slytherin team gained their self-respect after the score of Pucey.

Johnson had the Quaffle. Montague and Flint went after her, but out of nowhere Potter appeared and stormed right at them.

"Bloody Potter!" yelled Berenice. "That was our chance!"

"No, look!" Eleanor grabbed Berenice's arm. "Malfoy has spotted the Snitch!"

"Ah, those Gryffindorks," smiled Berenice, who watched satisfied how Potter protected Johnson and didn't see how Malfoy flew into a nosedive. "Always so busy trying to be a hero."

Eleanor looked at her friend and saw how her smile froze. "You must be kidding me."

Potter had finally remembered his task and went after Malfoy, who luckily had a lead of yards.

"A Bludger!" yelled Berenice, which Bole promptly did sent at Potter. It only missed Potter by a hair's breath. The distance between Potter and Malfoy dwindled down to a few centimeters …

"NO!" roared the entire Slytherin section, while the others houses exploded with relief. Potter managed to grab the Snitch and Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup.

Berenice stared at the field in bewilderment. Supporters of the winning team climbed over the fences. Everyone wanted to congratulate the Gryffindors with their, well, Eleanor had to admit, deserving title.

"I cannot believe it," Berenice slowly muttered. Eleanor gave her a little nod.

"Come on, Bunny. Let's find Adrian," she said, pulling Berenice up.

They found their friend sitting at full length on the grass, his face hidden in his hands. The rest of Slytherins team had the same defeated air around them.

"Hey," said Berenice slowly. Eleanor said nothing and just looked over at the Gryffindor team, sitting already on the shoulders of the housemates and losing theirselves.

Adrian did not answer Berenice, but shook his head slightly. Eleanor pulled her look away from the winners to her friends and sighed.

"Stop moping, Pucey," she said before nodding at Berenice. The girls bended forward and grabbed Adrian's arms to help him upright. Eleanor yanked away his hands from his face.

Just like Eleanor expected, the green eyes of Adrian glittered with fury.

"I cannot believe it. We had the chance to win the Cup and it just slipped right out of our hands," managed Adrian to say.

Berenice huffed, but said nothing. Flint was still sitting within earshot.

"Let's get wasted," suggested Eleanor. "I still have some bottles of Muggle alcohol."

Berenice raised one eyebrow, but Adrian's eyes flickered. "That's the best idea you've had in a long time, Nell."

Eleanor grinned and casted a glance at the stands, where Dumbledore was holding the Quidditch Cup. Adrian followed her glance and frowned.

"Come on, let's go," said Berenice firmly, pulling Adrian away. "Stop with the self-blaming."

Before Eleanor turned around to follow her friends, she caught the glance of George Weasley, smiling from ear to ear.

A tiny smile played around the corners of her mouth. She hold his glance and finally gave a little shrug. His smile became wider, although Eleanor didn't know how that was possible.

She winked and turned away from the sickening view of Potter holding the Quidditch Cup over his head.

There was some alcohol waiting for her to smother these conflicting emotions.