disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just Arabella. I hope you all like this chapter! Let me know what you think!

Quidditch Brawls

"It'd be a miracle if Warrington managed to even score a goal," snapped Arabella. "The boy's got terrible aim. I would be more worried that he'd score on his own team, Parkinson."

Parkinson's smile dropped and Arabella rushed towards the Gryffindor table, Hermione right at her heel. She could practically feel her blood boiling over a cauldron. They wanted to humiliate Ron, did they? They wanted to mock him, belittle him, degrade him? He'll show them. He'll show them exactly what he's made off on the field. That was all that mattered at the end of the day. He'll wipe those smiles on the Slytherin's faces.

Arabella received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table. She took a seat next to Harry and dropped some eggs on her plate. She looked around the table. Everyone was wearing red and gold and were very cheerful. The only one that looked out of place was Ron, who looked stared at his food as though it were his last meal.

"I must've been mental to do this," Ron croaked out. "Mental."

Harry blinked at him for a moment and then said, "I've already told you – you're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous." He then added to Arabella and Hermione, "He's been at this all morning."

"Well, that's a good sign," Hermione said heartily. "I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous."

"I'm rubbish," whispered Ron. "I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"

"Now, you stop that right now," Arabella said sternly. "You made brilliant saves the other day. Remember the one you did with your foot? Even Angelina thought it was brilliant –"

"That was an accident," said Ron, sounding as though Arabella was torturing him. "I – I didn't mean to do it. I slipped off my broom and when I was trying to get back on, I kicked the Quaffle by accident."

Arabella tried to cover her face from this unpleasant surprise but feared that might have failed.

"Well," said Harry, "a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"

"Hello," said a vague, dreamy voice from behind them. It was Luna and she was sporting a life-size shaped hat of a lion's head. "I support Gryffindor. Look what it does…"

She tapped the hat with her wand and its mouth opened wide. It gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump. At the Hufflepuff table, Arabella saw Alfred dropped some pumpkin juice down his front.

"It's good, isn't it? I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway… good luck, Ronald!"

Arabella stared after Luna as she drifted away. She could not believe that there was someone out there in the world like Luna and yet, she was simply fantastic. They had not quite recovered from the shock when Angelina Johnson came hurrying forward with Katie Bell.

"When you're ready," said Angelina, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."

"We'll be down in a bit," said Harry. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."

"I'll head down with you," said Arabella, standing up. "Might as well get ready."

She stood up and quickly kissed Harry on the cheek. She moved her head slightly and whispered in his head, "Do not let Ron see those badges."

Harry looked puzzled as Arabella pulled away and followed Angelina and Katie out of the Great Hall. As they made their way towards the Quidditch pitch, frosty grass crunching under their feet, none of them spoke. There was a hard look on Angelina's face. She looked extremely determined and there was no room for error. Arabella had never seen that look before. She was more intense than Oliver and she thought he was already bad enough. It was almost as though it wasn't just a simple match. It was as though they were marching towards some sort of battle against the Slytherins.

There was no wind and the sky was pure white. They would be able to see everything clearly without sunlight blinding them.

"How are you feeling, Arabella?" Angelina asked briskly as they entered the locker room. "Ron feeling all right, then?"

For a fleeting moment, Arabella thought she should let Angelina know that Ron was terrified and was lacking confidence in himself. As much as she wanted to tell her captain the truth, she could not do that to her friend. She did not want to embarrass him and felt terrible for even thinking it.

"A little nervous," Arabella said quietly, lacing her boots. "But not too terrible. First game jitters, I suppose."

Angelina nodded. "Good. A little bit of nervousness never hurt anyone. Both of you, just remember, remain calm and play your best. I trust the both of you. I know how you both play, and I think the three of us make a deadly trio."

Arabella and Katie shared a smile with Angelina, who seemed much more relax than earlier. It was just the three of them, bonding once more.

"Breathe," Angelina went on, as though she was simply talking to herself. "Concentrate. Relax and focus. I have the upmost faith in the both of you." She then added, reconsidering her words, "Don't tell the others I said that. Don't want them to think I'm playing favourites."

Angelina turned swiftly and headed into the captain's office to get changed. Arabella and Katie looked at each other, covering their laughs quickly as the others began entering the locker room. Harry and Ron were the last ones in to change. Ron pulled on his robes for a few minutes backwards until Arabella helped him. Angelina re-entered the room with a piece of parchment in her hands. Though the walls, they could hear the babble of voices grow as the crowd came pouring out of the castle and towards the pitch.

"Okay, I've only just found out the final lineup for Slytherin," said Angelina. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left now, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them –"

"We do," Arabella, Ron and Harry said together.

"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from another, but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way onto the pitch without signposts."

"Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mold," said Harry.

They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the benches. Some people were singing, but nothing Arabella could make out. She was getting a little nervous, but nothing close to what Ron was feeling. He was clutching his stomach, his jaw set and skin grey.

"It's time," Angelina said in a hush voice. "C'mon everyone… good luck."

The team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in a single file out of the changing room and into the pitch. A roar of sound greeted them with a song being muffled by the cheers and whistles. The Slytherin team were standing waiting for them with those silver crown badges pined to their front. Montage, the new captain, had massive, hairy forearms. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him, swinging their Beaters' bats stupidly, while Malfoy stood on one side, smirking and tapping the crown badge on his chest.

"Captains shake hands," ordered Madam Hooch. "Mount your brooms…"

She placed her whistle in her mouth and blew. The balls were released and all fourteen players shot upward. Arabella zoomed around the Gryffindor goal post as Ron stood in front of them, a look of false determination on his face.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me –"

"JORDAN!"

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest – and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's – ouch – been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and – nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Arabella Black and Black's away – dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger – close call, Arabella – nice bit of broom work there from the Firebolt she's been spotting since the third year along with Harry Potter – those two have quietly gotten together over the holidays – lovely pair, I must say, if you can look past all that snogging–"

"JORDAN, I'M WARNING YOU!"

"Sorry, Professor, sorry! Thought they might want some background on our players – and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Lee paused for a moment and the song rose clearly from the Slytherin section of the stands:

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.

Arabella felt her insides quiver. She quickly passed the Quaffle and caught her breath. Those slimy, disgusting snakes…

" – and Arabella passes back to Angelina!" shouted Lee, trying to drown out the singing. "Come on now, Angelina – looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! – SHE SHOOTS – SHE – aaah…"

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, saved the goal. He threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Arabella and Katie. The song grew louder and louder as he drew closer towards Ron.

Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.

" – and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead –"

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring…

" – so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team – come on, Ron!"

Arabella signed and groaned. Ron dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle soared between them, straight through the central hoop.

"Slytherin score! So that's ten-nil to Slytherin – bad luck, Ron…"

Amidst the cheering and booing, the Slytherins sang even louder.

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN…

" – and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie tanking up the pitch –"

But Lee could not make himself heard above the deafening singing.

WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING…

" – and it's Warrington again who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Johnson, come on now Arabella, you can take him – turns out you can't – but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh who cares, one of them anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell – er – drops it too – so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!"

With her heart racing at a thousand miles per hour, Arabella zoomed forward and behind the Gryffindor goal posts.

" – and Pucey's dodged Angelina again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"

Without even thinking, without even completely understanding what she was doing, Arabella leaned forward and came up from underneath Ron. Ron went for the post on the right, but it was a deflect. Arabella kicked the Quaffle away from the middle, the contact making a loud thud as the Quaffle soared towards the middle of the pitch. She could not see where the Quaffle had gone. There was an uproar from the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw end, everyone cheering beneath her. Arabella was breathing loudly, unsure of what she had just done.

"BLACK WITH A SAVE! I don't believe it! She's helped him out! Team work makes the dream work, I say, that's the Gryffindor motto, lads –"

Ron stared at her for a moment before his face went completely blank. Anger briefly flashed over his face and she regretted what she did for a moment but shook her head. She had absolutely nothing to be ashamed off. She quickly grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him closer until their noses were practically touching.

"You are a brilliant Keeper," Arabella said roughly. "Don't you dare forget that –"

"ARE YOU A CHASER OR NOT?" screamed Angelina, soaring past them. "GET GOING!"

Arabella let go of Ron's robes and soared away, catching up with Angelina and Katie. Ten-nil was nothing for them. They would be able to catch up in no time. They can make that up easily.

But Ron let three more goals in and Arabella was praying for Harry to quickly find the Snitch.

" – and Katie Bell of Gryffindor didges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Black, Arabella Black takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Arabella – look at that speed – GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle…"

Arabella could hear Luna's lion hat roaring as she ducked a Bludger Crabbe sent rocketing her direction.

" – Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey – Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good – I mean bad – Bell's hit by a Bludger from Goyle to Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again…"

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN –

Arabella felt as though she was going mad, diving, chasing, catching anything that was near her. And then finally, at long last, she heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle. For a brief moment, there were cheering, until they were cut off by an uproar of catcalls, angry yells and jeers. The mood had suddenly changed.

"What's happened?" Arabella shouted towards Fred.

"Crabbe's Bludger got Harry," yelled Fred as the crowd got louder, "just as he got the Snitch."

Instantly, Arabella shot to where Harry was and dropped her broomstick on the ground.

"… but then again, he was born in a bin…" called Malfoy, white-face with fury, sneering. "Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Arabella's step slowed down for a second before she quickened them. What now…

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" called Malfoy. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly – we wanted to sing about his mother, see, and we couldn't fit in useless loser either – for his father, you know –"

Fred and George were right beside her and they head just realized what Malfoy was talking about. She could see their bodies stiffen as they stared at Malfoy.

"Leave it," Angelina said at once, taking Fred by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little –"

" – but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter? Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay –"

Harry grabbed hold of George while it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina and Katei to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Arabella stood still, staring at Malfoy, hoping that the ground would swallow him whole.

"Or perhaps, Black," said Malfoy, leering, "you remember the smell of your mother's house. Must have stunk like Potter's mother, if he can ever remember her, and the Weasley's pigsty reminds him of –"

"Harry! HARRY! NO! GEORGE!"

Angelina and Katie were screaming, Malfoy yelled something incoherent, George swore loudly, and Harry drew back his clenched fist. He sunk it hard into Malfoy's stomach, the crowd bellowing around them.

"IMPEDIMENTA!"

Harry was knocked backward by force as Madam Hooch came running at him, her whistle in one hand and her wand in the other. Fred was still being restrained by Angelina and Katie, while Crabbe was cackling in the background. Malfoy was clutching his stomach, but there was a proud smile on his face a small laugh erupting from his mouth. Arabella felt something beating wildly in her ear. She could not tell if it was coming from the crowd or from herself.

"What do you think you're doing?" screamed Hooch. "I've never seen behaviour like this – back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"

Harry and George marched off the pitch, both panting. Arabella called after Harry, but he either didn't hear her due to the crowd, or simply ignored her. The crowd was jeering and howling louder than ever. Hooch left quickly to the teacher's stand, probably to speak with McGonagall.

"We've got to get Fred back –" began Arabella, her throat gone dry.

"Are you telling me you don't remember your own mother's house, Black?" called Malfoy, his smile wider and smug. "Tell me, was it worse when your father was there, or did the stink get better when he was thrown into Azkaban?"

Arabella rolled her eyes and grabbed a hold of Fred's arm. She, along with Angelina and Katie, began tugging him towards the locker room.

"I bet it got worse when you moved in with that mutt –"

Arabella froze where she stood. Her back was facing Malfoy, but she could practically hear the smirk on the back of her neck. Her ears were practically ringing and she didn't catch the next couple words out of his mouth.

" – those Anastas women are made from the same mold, Crabbe, don't you know? Bet one of them would have welcomed you into their bed gladly and easily – did you know what happened to them?"

Her whole body was trembling. She could feel her grip on Fred loosen until her arms were slack against her sides. Her eyes were blinking rapidly and her breath ridged. She turned around to face Malfoy, who looked as though he triumphed over her in a long-grueling war.

"They both deserve it, of course, and whatever happened to Black, over there, well, let's just say – she deserves those nasty scars –"

She doesn't remember moving her legs. It was as though her body and her brain were disconnected, but they agreed on one single, simple thing: Malfoy. She did not care that nearly everyone student was watching her or that Crabbe was thirty-something feet away or that all her professors were right there. None of it mattered because all she wanted to do was hurt Malfoy. She wanted to finish him. She wanted to make him feel pain that could only be scarcely imagined. Her heart was beating against her ribs and with every step, she could feel her rib cracking and almost piercing her head. Her ears were ringing and it felt as though every noise around her was miles away. The only thing she could hear was her breath and how uneasy and heavy it came to her. Harry did not do much damage to Malfoy, but she will finish the deed.

She drew her fist back and punched him straight on his jaw. He fell to the ground, his mouth opened as though he was howling. She could not hear the howl, her ears suddenly not functioning, but she imagined it hurt. Arabella kept punching him over and over again. She punched his face, she punched his shoulder, she punched anything she could reach and more. He kept screaming and crying, and she thought he mouthed the word for mother, mother, father!, mother. It was pointless. She was unrelenting, unyielding and she was not going to break her hold on him.

It was only until her teammate's voices came through did she realize she was screaming as well. It was as though it were some sort of Muggle film. Her ears unwilling to work, blocking out everything, until her name was called and she was suddenly brought back to her actions. The stadium was in an uproar. Half cheering, half booing, and the other half in disbelief. Her hair was wild as she screamed with fury and pain and pure, unadulterated hated. She doesn't remember every screaming like this before. Maybe once, a long time ago, when she was under Bellatrix as she held a knife over her, but… it was a long time ago.

Arabella was suddenly lifted off her feet and was thrown off Malfoy. She turned to see Crabbe there, protecting Malfoy. She felt something growl against her chest. She felt more lion inside of her than a coyote and she pounced once more – who cares about Crabbe – he was nothing, nothing against her fury –

"IMPEDIMENTA!" Hooch returned to the pitch, her face completely red, her white hair standing on. "What on earth are you going? I have never seen such behaviour like this – back up to the castle! How dare you – straight to Professor McGonagall's office! Don't you dare look at me like that, Black! Go! NOW!"

Arabella marched off the pitch, panting and glaring at anyone in sight. The howling and jeering of the crowd was deafening – how did she manage to block them out? The Slytherins were certainly not happy as they threw insults at Arabella, booing her, taunting her as she walked past a curled-up Malfoy. The crowd became faint as she walked up towards the castle. She could hear nothing except for her own footsteps and her bones shaking against the stone floor. What right did he have…

Arabella threw McGonagall's door open, not even knocking, and slammed the door behind her.

" – and Harry's mother!" snarled George, glaring at McGonagall before they all turned to her.

"What now?" cried Professor McGonagall. "What have you done? Another two on one?"

"No, this was one on one," snapped Arabella, "and that pathetic, slimy, worthless little worm couldn't even tell me to my face that my mother was better off dead!"

"So instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you decided to give an exhibition of Muggle dueling, did you?" bellowed McGonagall, her eyes burning with fury. "He'd just lost and he provoked you! There's nothing on earth that could have justified what you have done –"

"Except for the tiny, little fact that he thinks Bellatrix should have broken into my house!" roared Arabella. "That his aunt was in the right, that every single, tiny thing that she ever did to me was right! How do you justify that –!"

"Don't you dare raise your voice –!"

"Hem, hem."

Arabella, George and Harry spun around. Professor Umbridge was standing in the doorway, wrapped in a green cloak and smiling in a horribly sickly, ominous way.

"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" Umbridge's voice poisonously sweet.

"Help?" McGonagall repeated in a constricted voice. "What do you mean, 'help'?"

Umbridge came forward and said, "Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."

"You thought wrong," said McGonagall, turning her back on Umbridge. "Now, you three had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, living or dead, your behaviour was disgusting and I am giving each of you two weeks' worth of detention! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! and if either of you ever –"

"Hem, hem."

Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face toward Umbridge again. "Yes?"

"I think they deserve rather more than detention."

Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open. "But unfortunately, is what I think that counts, as they are in my House, Dolores."

"Well, actually, Minerva, I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it… I mean," she gave a small laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, "the Minister just sent it… Ah yes…" She pulled out a piece of parchment, unrolled it, cleared her throat and began reading. "Hem, hem… 'Education Decree Number Twenty-Five…"

"Not another one!" exclaimed McGonagall violently.

"Well, yes," said Umbridge, still smiling. "As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment… You remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, how, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she – that is to say, I – would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor team re-forming? Dreadful tempers… Anyway, I was reading out our amendment… hem, hem… 'The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc.." She rolled up the parchment and put it back in her handbag. "So… I really think I will have to ban these three from playing Quidditch ever again."

Silence followed her statement. Arabella blinked at Umbridge. Surely she heard wrong.

"Ban us?" whispered Harry, his voice sounding strangely distant. "From playing… ever again?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick. "You, Mr. Weasley and Miss Black here. And I think, to be safe, Mr. Weasley's twin ought to be stopped too – if his teammate had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course. I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall. The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well… good afternoon to you."

With a look of utmost satisfaction and smugness, Umbridge left the room. Arabella, Harry, George and McGonagall stared after her.

Arabella was horrified and, at that moment, wished the ground shook from underneath her and took somewhere, anywhere but Hogwarts. She would gladly be anywhere else in the world than Hogwarts.

"I am very sorry," spoke Arabella, her voice shaking terribly, unsure of who she was speaking to. Her head tilted slightly towards McGonagall. "I am so very sorry for what I have done. I am so, so sorry."

McGonagall was still staring at Umbridge's wake. She was silent and still, looking as though she was carved from glass. She looked at Arabella, as though startled by her sudden presence, blinking and nodding her head.

"It's not – it's quite – Miss Black, you best head back to your common room – it's – its's –"

Arabella had never seen McGonagall at a loss for words like this before. She was startled with the announcement that she was a mere common teacher with less authority over her students than an unqualified Ministry employee. McGonagall moved around, tentatively placed her hand on Arabella's shoulder, and moved forward. Arabella didn't see, but she heard McGonagall close the door to her private quarters.

Arabella, George and Harry stared at each other, neither of them able to form words at the horror they had just witnessed. Silently, they began moving and left McGonagall's office.

The way to Gryffindor Tower was short for Gryffindors as they knew the short cuts and could easily make it in a minute or two. But the trip seemed to have taken hours. They walked slow, as though they were walking to their deaths. Half way through the Entrance Hall, Arabella stopped and leaned against the wall. She took a couple minutes to compose herself, her breathe coming in heavily and unevenly. George and Harry hung back, neither of them saying anything, and Arabella was grateful for that. They didn't ask her what was wrong. Whatever pride she had left after what Umbridge did was saved.

Just as Arabella managed to steady her legs, Harry suddenly whipped something hard against the wall opposite him. Arabella closed her eyes and hung her head as the object bounced from the wall. She opened her eyes and saw the Snitch fluttering madly by her foot, the wings bent and unable to take flight.

Tears began welling up in her eyes. She quickly whipped them away and pushed herself off the wall. George had a distant look on his face, as though he was trying to transport himself away from the castle, away from the situation, while Harry buried his face in his hands, stopping himself from screaming and waking every single portrait in the castle.

"She truly is a wench, isn't she?" George said softly, staring at the ceiling. His voice was so small, Arabella almost didn't catch it.

She didn't know how long it took for them to reach the Gryffindor common room. It must have taken hours since there was nobody there. No angry faces, no accusations or judgement. Just an empty common room with a roaring fire.

Arabella kneeling in front of the fire, staring at the flames, as Harry and George found themselves empty armchairs for themselves. None of them said anything to each other. Just simply lost in their own thoughts.

"Dinner started a while ago," commented Harry. Nobody answered him. Nobody had an appetite.

Arabella thought of the first time she rode a broom. It was one of her earliest and clearest memories. She was barely three, barely reaching Remus's knees, when Kassandra bought her a toddler broomstick. It barely rose two feet in the air. Kassandra was sitting on a chair outside, cheering her on, as Remus chased after her, his laughter ringing in her ears. It was a hot day, Kassandra made lemonade, and Arabella remembered making that small broom go as fast as she could at such a young age. The acceleration made it seem as though wind was blowing through her hair and hitting her tiny cheeks. She giggled so terribly that she almost fell off the broom before Remus caught her and straight her up. He lightly tapped her nose as she zoomed towards her mother. Kassandra stood up and opened her arms. She scooped Arabella up in her warm, strong arms, and kissed her cheeks, declaring that her daughter would give Gwenog Jones a run for her money. Her sweet, beautiful mother kissed her cheeks once more as Remus laughed. It was her first memory, but it was not her strongest memory. Bellatrix – Malfoy's dear aunt – will always claim that prize.

The door to the common room opened and a pile of people came stomping in. Angelina Johnson led the charge.

"What happened?" she demanded. "What did McGonagall say?"

Arabella looked up at her. She was unable to form any words, her throat thick and uncomfortable. She tried to say something, but nothing came out.

"Arabella, what's wrong?" said Hermione, pushing and shoving her way towards Arabella and kneeling.

It was then that Arabella realized that she was crying. Tears were flowing down her cheeks and she could not make a single sound. Her shoulders were moving unsteadily as Hermione embraced her tightly. Quidditch was being taken away from her. She felt someone behind her rubbing her back soothingly but could not tell who it was.

"What happened?" repeated Angelina, looking shocked and uneasy.

George explained what happened, his voice hollow. Once he was done, stunned silence followed. Everyone was taking in what he had just said. It as though they had not won that match at all. The team was slumped by the fire with other members of Gryffindor surrounding them. Everyone was either in disbelief, gloom or anger. The only person that was missing was Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.

"Banned," said Angelina, her voice low. "Banned. No Seeker, no Beaters, and a Chaser gone… What on earth are we going to do with just me and Katie?"

"It's just so unfair," said Katie. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"

"No," Ginny said miserably behind Arabella. "He just got line, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."

"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" Katie said furiously.

"It's not my fault I didn't," said Fred, his fist twisted. "I would have pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you hadn't been holding me back."

"I'm going to bed," said Angelina, slowly getting to her feet. "Maybe this will all tun out to have been a bad dream… Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet…"

She was soon followed by Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later and Ginny went not long after. Only Arabella, Hermione and Harry were left beside the fire.

"Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked in a low voice. "I think he's avoiding us. Where do you think he –?"

But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forward and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw them, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Where have you been?" said Hermione anxiously, spring up.

"Walking," mumbled Ron.

"You look frozen," said Hermione. "Come and sit down!"

Ron sank into the chair farthest from Harry's and stared at his feet. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" said Harry.

"For thinking I can play Quidditch. I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."

"Don't," Arabella said thickly. "If you do, there will only be two players left on the team and Angelina… will be displeased."

"We've been given a lifetime ban," said Harry. "So have Fred and George."

"What?" yelped Ron.

Hermione told him the full story. When she finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.

"This is all my fault –"

"You didn't make me punch Malfoy," said Harry angrily.

" – if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch –"

" – it's got nothing to do with that –"

" – it was that song that wound –"

"Shut up!" snapped Arabella. "Drop it! This day's already bad enough without you blaming yourself for everything!"

Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hen of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."

"Join the club," Harry and Arabella said bitterly.

"Well," said Hermione next to the window, her voice trembling slightly. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you up."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry skeptically.

"Yeah," said Hermione, turning away from the window, a broad smile spreading across her face. "Hagrid's back."

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all liked this chapter.

I was thinking of combining it with the next chapter, but I really wanted Arabella's emotions to stand alone in this chapter with nothing else in the way. Personally, when I think of Arabella, I think of someone with loads and loads of emotions, among other things of course. Anger, love, rage, happiness, pure bliss - I truly think that's how we relate to characters and each other. The way she feels things is something I really wanted to showcase when I decided to rewrite the series and I hope that so far, I have somehow managed to achieve at least a little bit of that goal.