After two weeks back, Jimmy O'Bannon's Seventh and final year at the Salem Witches Institute still sucked.
He barely managed to keep up with all the homework and projects the teachers foisted on him and the other students. The near-impossible workload resulted in much stress around the school. One day at lunch he saw Bertha Brumblebock from his Transfiguration class break down in front of the entire Communal Hall, crying that she'd never be able to complete all her work and graduate. Then there was the night Ursa Oberlin and one of her roommates, Cindy Walker, got into a screaming match in the parlor of Blazenrowe Hall, with Ursa yelling that Cindy didn't "understand that school work doesn't come easy for me like it does for you!"
Even Artimus snapped at O'Bannon one day when he asked his friend if he learned anything about Cecilia Malfoy's true purpose at Salem.
"You ask me that every day! The answer is still no. When she does say something I'll let you know. Merlin's Beard, quit treating me like an idiot!"
Artimus later apologized to O'Bannon, but the outburst still left him scratching his head. It was so out of character for him.
But it also made him realize he still didn't know what Cecilia and Serinta Sejant were really up to.
Even worse, the majority of the Salem student population still didn't believe him about Lord Voldemort's return. The harder he tried to convince everyone, the more people he pissed off. Rosa Infante told him to back off until he came up with a new tactic, since the "beating them over the head approach" failed to get him anywhere. It took two days, six heated arguments and a near wand fight before O'Bannon took her advice. The decision left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd promised Headmaster Dumbledore, the Weasleys and Harry Potter he would do everything he could to drum up support for their cause in the States. Now he felt he was letting his friends in England down.
Then he had the nightmares to deal with. Just like during the summer, he dreamed he was back at the Quidditch pitch for the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Harry suddenly appeared out of thin air kneeling over a lifeless Cedric Diggory. But some nights Cedric's body would be replaced by that of a friend. Rosa, Jared, Artimus, Fred, George, Mireet, Ginny Weasley, Dean Thomas. One particular nightmare had Harry dead with a figure in black robes standing over him. The thing grew rapidly, engulfing O'Bannon in darkness. He woke up drenched in sweat, unable to fall back to sleep for the rest of that night.
Today, O'Bannon hoped he could forget about all that. Because today he had scheduled his first tryout for the Blazenrowe hockey team.
But instead of looking forward to it, the prospect made him nervous as hell. He barely talked to Rosa, Jared and Artimus as they walked to the Communal Hall, with Rosa clenching her wand on the lookout for Feetish. He wondered if he could put together a good team. He wondered if they would follow him the same way the Triad did at Hogwarts. And the schedule . . . O'Bannon clenched his teeth when he saw their first opponent of the season. Ardenturo Hall. Last year they captured the championships in nearly every sport at Salem; hockey, Quidditch, wizard chess. About the only thing they didn't win at was Gobstones, but who gave a damn about that. Nearly every student from the other three halls – Blazenrowe, Jingosocke and Krallenhurst – wanted to see Ardenturo knocked off its high horse.
Yeah. No pressure there.
O'Bannon entered the Communal Hall, ignoring the cheerful greetings of the ghost of Priscilla Primrose. The tangy smell of eggs, bacon, ham and cinnamon raisin oatmeal created a raging storm of nausea in his stomach. He clenched his teeth, praying he wouldn't throw up in front of the entire school.
"You okay, Jimmy?" Rosa put a hand on his back.
"Yeah. Fine." He nodded. "Let's eat."
The four sat down. O'Bannon poured himself a bowl of corn flakes and took a few pieces of toast. Somehow he forced a big spoonful of cereal into his mouth, chewed it and swallowed. How he managed to keep it down he didn't know.
"Jeez. Isaac looks nervous."
O'Bannon followed Jared's gaze to the entrance of the Communal Hall. Isaac Pinder had walked in, head down, looking white as a sheet.
"I feel so bad for that kid." A sympathetic look crossed Rosa's face. "His brother was such a great player and he . . ." She sighed, unable to complete the sentence.
Jared did it for her. "Yeah, and he isn't."
"Jared." She scolded him.
"What? I'm not saying it to be mean. I like Isaac, but it's the truth. The kid can't play."
O'Bannon tried to think of something to say, until he saw Cecilia and Serinta cross in front of Isaac. The boy never saw them, and bumped into Serinta.
"You idiot! Watch where you're going!"
"Sorry," Isaac muttered.
Serinta glowered at him. "Stupid, useless bug."
Isaac shuddered, looking like he would cry. The two Slytherin girls stomped past O'Bannon and the others at his table. He noticed Serinta's face red with rage. The skin between Cecilia's thin eyebrows crinkled with anger.
"Well, they're in a cheery mood." Jared shoved a strip of bacon into his mouth.
Isaac took a seat and just stared at his hands, not even bothering to eat. O'Bannon wanted to do the same. He felt like someone had turned on a wave machine in his stomach. But he couldn't do that. He was team captain. He couldn't afford to look nervous. So he forced down his corn flakes, toast and pumpkin juice and prayed he didn't puke.
He did. Thankfully it happened in a bathroom back at Blazenrowe Hall, so no one else saw it. After spending a couple minutes ridding himself of the stale taste with mouthwash, he grabbed his gear and headed out. He kept his head up and took several deep breaths, trying to combat his nervousness.
You can do this.
Everyone had said he was a natural leader. He'd proven that in the past by quarterbacking the second line and the top penalty killing unit. Hell, he'd even put together a team from scratch at Hogwarts and led them to victory over Slytherin. He should certainly be able to do the same here at Salem.
O'Bannon reached the bottom of the steps when a female voice called out to him.
"Hi, Jimmy."
He stopped. An electric tingle shot through his body. He turned to find a smiling Rana Rollingsworth striding over to him. Damn, but she had a beautiful smile.
"Hey, Rana. How are you doing?"
"Fine. Busy, though."
"Yeah. Who isn't around here?" He'd been so consumed by schoolwork he hardly ever saw Rana outside of class or meals.
"I know, it's nuts."
Silence hung over them. O'Bannon searched for something to say, but Rana beat him to it.
"You doing okay?" Concern filled her eyes. "I mean, I guess you know a lot of people here aren't happy with you telling stories that You-Know-Who is back."
"Yeah, well, it's the truth. If people can't handle it, too damn bad."
"That's what I always liked about you, Jimmy. When you believe in something, you don't back down, even if the whole world's against you."
"Thanks," he said breathlessly. His insides somersaulted, but in a good way.
"So, hockey practice today?" She glanced at his stick and skates.
"Yeah. First day of tryouts."
"Well, best of luck. Hopefully you can beat Ardenturo. Merlin's Beard, you should have seen them when they won the championship last year. They were so smug."
O'Bannon didn't feel the same pressure as he did when others told him Blazenrowe just had to beat Ardenturo this year. From Rana it sounded more like encouragement. For a moment he wanted to forget about tryouts and just stand her talking to her.
"Um, say. You wanna come watch?"
Rana canted her head and gave him a sympathetic smile. "I wish I could. But I have to get together with Gregory and work on our History of Magic project."
O'Bannon gripped his stick tighter. Intense flames of anger burned behind his eyes. Gregory Lancemore. For a second O'Bannon pictured himself beating the Blazenrowe Quidditch captain into a bloody mess. No doubt the s.o.b. was hitting on Rana. He hit on every hot girl at Salem. Why the hell couldn't the jagoff leave Rana alone? He liked Rana.
"Oh. Yeah, I understand." He tried to hide his disappointment, wondering if he succeeded. "Maybe next time."
"Yeah. Sure. I'll see you, Jimmy. Good luck . . . Captain."
With another pleasant smile, Rana headed toward the parlor.
Once she was out of sight, O'Bannon kicked open the front door. He growled at the thought of Gregory Lancemore sitting next to Rana, telling stupid jokes, making her laugh, putting a hand on her shoulder, leaning in to . . .
He saw a small rock on the ground and kicked it right into a flower bed. A couple garden gnomes jumped out and hissed at him. O'Bannon ignored them and shook his head. He never thought this way about Gregory Lancemore before. They'd always gotten along well since their First Year. Most times he admired the guy's ability to pick up witches with ease.
That was before he got partnered with a witch I like.
Well then, Jimmy Boy. You better do something about it before those two start sucking face.
He grimaced at the thought.
O'Bannon walked down the small hill behind Blazerowe Hall and headed for the pond the hockey team used for practice. Half-a-dozen people were already there, including Rosa and Jared.
"Greetings, Exalted Captain." Jared threw him a salute. So did Rosa.
"Ha ha, very funny. Now drop and give me twenty."
The cousins both gave him a dismissive wave.
After getting into his pads, skates and helmet, O'Bannon aimed his wand at the pond.
"Freezium!"
A white beam shot from his wand. Within seconds the Freezing Spell had turned the water to ice. Everyone stepped onto it and skated around. Over the next ten minutes other Blazenrowe students showed up.
At 11 a.m., O'Bannon scanned the ice. He furrowed his brow when he saw just twenty-two people. He called over Rosa and Jared.
"What the hell's up?" He swiveled his head between the two. "We always get way more people than this for tryouts."
"I don't know, man." Jared shook his head. "I mean, we had announcements posted all over Blazenrowe."
O'Bannon's lips twisted. "We're even missing some of our returners."
He looked over Jared's shoulder and spotted a stocky young black kid skate by.
"Yo, Dante!"
Dante Marshall, who'd been with the team for four years, came over to him. "What's up, Jimmy?"
"Where the heck is everyone? I don't see Walden or Frissell or Householder."
Dante cleared his throat and cast his eyes down. "Uh . . . yeah, well . . ."
"There a problem?"
"Yeah." Dante sighed and looked up at O'Bannon. "Those three said they weren't coming out for the team this year."
"What?" Rosa nearly screeched in surprise.
"You gotta be kidding." Jared gawked at Dante. "Walden's our friggin' goalie. And Frissell's one of our best guy's on the penalty kill."
"Hey, man. I'm sorry. That's what they told me."
"Well did they give you a reason?" demanded Rosa.
"Yeah." Dante sheepishly looked at O'Bannon. "It's because of you, Jimmy, and all the stuff you keep saying about You-Know-Who being back. Walden lost both his parents in the war, remember? And Frissell's sister died when the Death Eaters burned down Logglill Meadows. And some others who wanted to come out said they wouldn't because they thought you were disrespecting everyone who fought and died in the war."
O'Bannon's head trembled. He breathed loudly through his nose, wondering if he could contain the emotional eruption begging to be released.
"What about you?" Rosa locked her eyes on Dante.
"Well, I'd like to see some proof he's back, you know. But Jimmy's always been straight with us. So I'm willing to believe him."
O'Bannon groaned. Not the most ringing endorsement, but at this point he'd take it.
Jared's face twisted in a sour look. "Damn. We can get along without Householder, but what are we gonna do without Walden and Frissell?"
"We'll just have to make do without them." O'Bannon straightened up, trying to radiate confidence. "We don't have much choice, do we?"
He skated out to the middle of the pond and called over everyone. The students grouped together in front of O'Bannon and his two alternate captains, Rosa and Marcel Dubuque. He'd hoped giving Dubuque one of the A's would help him get over his disappointment at not being named captain. Unfortunately, the defenseman still had a dour look on his face.
Well, he'll have to get over it eventually.
"Welcome to tryouts for the Blazenrowe hockey team. For those of you who don't know me, my name's Jimmy O'Bannon, the team captain. And these are my alternates, Rosa Infante and Marcel Dubuque. Now, as you can see, the turnout for this year's tryouts is lower than normal due to . . . certain circumstances."
Mainly that people think I'm full of crap about You-Know-Who.
He continued. "We also have some veteran players who won't be returning this year for their own personal reasons. That just means others will have to step up and take their place. And from looking around, it seems like we'll have a bunch of younger players on our roster this year." He eyed about eight Second and Third Year students, and two others who had to be First Years. "This may lead some people to think Blazenrowe will be the weakest of the four teams at Salem. Well I say that's a bunch of bullcrap. When I was in England, I put together a team made up of wizards and witches who didn't know jack about hockey. And you know what? I'd gladly lead them against any team at Salem. So we should have no trouble coming together and forging a team that can knock off Ardenturo this year and bring home the championship to Blazenrowe."
He was answered by a chorus of cheers.
"Also, for the newbies, just remember that, unlike most games in the Wizarding World, we don't use magic in hockey, save for a charm that can make anyone skate as easily as they can walk. Other than that's, it's all up to natural ability."
A small boy, an obvious First Year, raised his hand. "Excuse me, Captain O'Bannon. Why can't we use magic?"
"Well, the two Muggle-borns who created the school's hockey league back in the 1950s thought it would be a good way to have those who grew up in this world appreciate how Muggles get by without using magic. Not only that, but there will be times in your life when magic can't help you. That's when you'll have to rely on guts, brains and instinct. All of which you'll learn playing hockey."
The kid seemed to accept that.
"Okay. Enough of me yakkin'. Let's see what you got."
O'Bannon decided to do skating drills first. After setting up pylons along the ice, the players took turns zigzagging through them. No surprise the veteran players did very well, even last year's back-up goalie, a stout young man with a buzzcut named Spencer Cuthbert. Things changed when the younger players went. The First Year who asked O'Bannon the question about magic tripped over three of the cones.
Gotta be a pureblood.
One of the Second Years went through the cones with ease and captured the third best time on the time. Dionne was his name.
Damn, he's already got a great hockey name.
Next he put the players through simple passing drills, basic back and forth stuff. O'Bannon made sure to team a veteran with one of the newbies. The younger players did well . . . especially since they were standing in one place while passing.
Let's see how they do when we move.
That turned into an adventure. Many of the younger ones missed their partners by several inches, in some cases several feet. In one instance a girl no older than thirteen fired the puck completely off the pond and banged it off a nearby tree.
O'Bannon held his breath when Isaac Pinder went out, partnered with Rosa. He prayed all the kid's practicing over the summer paid off.
It didn't. Isaac mishandled two passes from Rosa. When he crossed the puck to Rosa, it was so far from her she fell when she reached out to get it.
Isaac slammed his stick on the ice as he circled around the net.
"Settle down, Isaac," O'Bannon told him.
Ten minutes later he changed things up again, putting Cuthbert in net. The younger players did even worse now that they had to pass and take the shot. Cuthbert only made two saves. The other pucks fired by the newbies usually missed the net by several feet.
Except for Dionne. The lanky, brown-haired boy skated up to the goal and put the puck over Cuthbert's left shoulder.
"Good job, Dionne." O'Bannon applauded, examining the kid as he skated back. Dionne didn't have a trace of nervousness on his face like the other players his age.
"He's played this game before," Rosa said to O'Bannon.
He nodded. "The kid looks like a natural."
A quick movement caught O'Bannon's attention. He noticed Isaac staring at him with a look of distress.
"Your turn, man. Good luck."
Isaac's face tightened. He took a deep breath and headed out with Rosa.
O'Bannon watched as he handled the first two passes well. The third one took a bad deflection off his stick and trickled behind him. O'Bannon could hear Isaac gasp as he whirled around, reeled in the puck, spun back around and fired.
Cuthbert flinched, then relaxed. The shot missed the net by at least six feet.
"Dammit!" Again Isaac slammed his stick on the ice.
"Calm down, Isaac," O'Bannon said forcefully. Inside he felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. He wondered if this pressure to follow in his brother's footsteps came from Isaac's parents or Isaac himself.
Next they did breakaways. O'Bannon put himself on Dionne, giving the kid a second head start before going after him. He almost caught up to Dionne when he fired the puck past Cuthbert.
"Nice one, Dionne." O'Bannon patted the kid on the back.
"Thank you," Dionne replied with a brief smile.
O'Bannon shook his head with bemusement. Yeah, I think he's gonna make the team.
He skated by Isaac, and noticed the guy staring laser beams at Dionne.
"Isaac, Rosa. You're up."
Isaac took more deep breaths as he skated to the center of the pond. He put his blade on the puck and started toward the net. Rosa got on his tail a second later.
Isaac pumped his legs furiously. Rosa stayed on him. He closed on the net, still handling the puck well. Cuthbert set himself in the goal.
Isaac drew back for the shot. His stick came down the same time Rosa pokechecked the puck. A clatter of wood-on-wood echoed through the air. The puck dribbled toward the banks of the pond.
"No! No! No!"
O'Bannon's eyes widened as Isaac threw down his stick, then ripped off his gloves and chucked them across the pond.
"Isaac, calm down." Rosa reached out to him.
"Get away from me!" He swatted at Rosa, narrowly missing her hand. "I have to make this team! Don't you understand? I have to! I can be just as good as my brother! Why won't you let me make this team?"
"Isaac!" O'Bannon skated over to the boy, whose face had turned beat red. Tears spilled down his cheeks. "I am not putting up with these tantrums any more. Rosa's job was to deny you the shot. She did, so get over it. Now get back with the others . . . and if you do this one more time, I'll kick you off the ice and you can forget about ever making this team."
Isaac trembled. "You can't do that!"
"The 'C' on my chest says I can. Now get back with the others and don't say another word."
O'Bannon turned around, teeth clenched. Wonderful. Barely an hour into their first practice and already he had to be a hardass. And to Isaac Pinder of all people. He couldn't remember ever seeing that kid angry. Certainly not to this extent. How much stress must he be under to follow in his brother's . . .
"Jimmy!"
He swung around at the sound of Rosa's voice.
Isaac Pinder's stick crashed down on O'Bannon's head.
TO BE CONTINUED