Disclaimer: Not mine, no offense intended.

"Bugger. Bugger. Bugger!" Andy rubbed a bleary fist over her eyes. She knew she'd woken up for a reason, but she couldn't seem to remember what that reason was. Then she noticed Alicia, Angelina, and Katie standing in front of her bed, facing the opposite direction

"What are we going to tell her?" asked Katie, her voice more high pitched than normal. Andy sat up, wondering what was wrong. Katie only reached that height when something had gone wrong, or she was lying.

"I have no bloody clue," exclaimed Angelina. Then, in a quieter, more resigned voice. "She's going to cry, isn't she?"

"Well, I don't know about tha—yeah, she's going to cry," said Katie. There was a sigh, then Alicia made a sort of gesture—Andy couldn't see what, because they were all standing so close together.

"Might as well wake her up now, eh?" said Alicia. There was a noise of assent from Katie, and then the three of them began moving towards Andy's bed.

And suddenly Andy knew exactly what they were talking about, because there, leaning up against the wall like some kind of horrible nightmare, was Andy's broom. It was in at least ten pieces, and there were gouge marks all over it, like someone had taken a knife to it.

Andy's entire world narrowed down to that small section of the room that held her most prized possession, and she scrambled out of bed to kneel next to it. For several seconds, Andy just cradled the pieces, hoping that she was still dreaming; hoping that they were big enough pieces so that she could charm it back together.

Andy had gotten her broom when she first decided to try out for the Gryffindor team. It had been a gift from her father, and even though several family members had offered to replace it since then, Andy had never given the offers a second thought. Her broom was perfect for her.

As Andy stared down at the splintered pieces in her hands, all she could think was that this was her broom. This was the only reason she was a good flier. She knew this broom like it was a friend and it was so perfectly attuned to her that the thought of trying to fly any other broom made her veins turn to ice.

"Who did this? How—it wasn't even in here. It was in our locker! How—?" Andy turned to her friends, searchingly. "How?"

"Oliver went down to the Pitch early to fly a bit before the game, and he found this strewn across the locker room. He said that he'd tried everything to fix it, but he thinks whoever did this took pieces with them or did something to alter it, because nothing worked," explained Alicia. She had a pitying look in her eyes that made Andy want to scream. Andy didn't want pity, damn it, she wanted to find whoever did this and feed them to the Giant Squid!

Andy wanted to yell; she wanted to curse and scream and cry, but all that came out was, "How am I going to fly today?"

Angelina and Alicia exchanged a look, but it was Katie who spoke. "My little sister's on the Hufflepuff team, so I'm going to finagle her into letting you use hers. It's not going to work for you as well as—well; it will be loads better than the school ones, at least."

Andy nodded; she stared wistfully down at her broken broom for several seconds before picking up all the pieces and dumping them onto her bed. When she turned back to look at her teammates, they were staring apprehensively, as if they thought Andy was going to go loony. She wasn't—even if that had been the most absolutely perfect broom; it was just a broom, really. As long as she could still play in the game—

"Of course!" cried Andy. When Angelina cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, Andy explained. "It was obviously Cassiopeia who did this. I mean, she's the only one who would have had access to the locker. And she probably thought that she if she did this, she could play in my stead."

Angelina shook her head. "Oliver didn't tell her the incantation to open the locker, yet. That's what his first thought was too, so he asked us if we had told her, but—"

"—but none of us really thought you were gone for good, and we weren't going to become all buddy-buddy with her if we could help it," finished Alicia. Angelina and Katie both nodded.

Well, that left Andy stumped. She'd been so sure it was Cassiopeia. There wasn't anyone else she could think of that would want to do this. Andy said as much out loud, and Angelina gave her a dubious look.

"But what about that girl you yelled at during Potions? Oh! And that third-year that you made cry a few months ago?"

"Yeah, and there was that Prefect that you yelled at until she promised not to take points when you got in that fight with Oliver last month," said Alicia. Katie nodded vigorously, and seemed about to open her mouth, but Andy held up both hands.

"Can we save Bash-Andy day for some other time? Because I really need to practice with your sister's broom before the game, and Oliver only allows us to roam free until after lunch," said Andy. Katie smiled apologetically at Andy, and began backing up.

"I'll just go get it then, shall I?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she fled the room. Andy turned back to Angelina and Alicia to ask them what had crawled up Katie's bum, but when she did they were giving each other a look again.

"Oi, what's up then? Something else horrible happen? Did Dumbles announce that the world was ending? Or—no! Did Angelina finally admit that she fancied the pants of Fred?" asked Andy, her voice rising in mock horror.

Her jibe hit home, apparently, because Angelina glared and ducked her head slightly before mumbling, "I do not fancy that prat!"

"Of course you don't, Ang, but that isn't the point here," said Alicia. She placed a hand on her hip. "The problem that we have is with you and Wood, Andy."

Andy held up a hand. "There's no problem anymore; Wood and I agreed that being mates and having him as my captain were mutually exclusive. I decided that I liked Quidditch more."

"Right," said Angelina, her voice laced with dubiousness. "But that wasn't exactly what we meant. We're talking about this thing with you and Wood."

"What thing with me and Wood? What the bloody fuck are you talking about?" asked Andy. Now it was Angelina's turn to smirk. Any previous embarrassment was obviously over; Andy cursed internally—generally any mention of her obvious crush on Fred was enough to put Angelina out for at least ten minutes.

"Face it, Andy, you 'fancy the pants off' Wood, and he feels the same way," said Angelina. "It's been obvious to everyone on the team for ages, and it's quite likely that everyone in the entire school knows as well."

"Yeah, and you know what Andy? We—the team, that is—are getting bloody tired of waiting around while you two do your little sexual tension song and dance," said Alicia. Her smirk mirrored Angelina's. "If you don't shag already, there's no way that we'll win the Quidditch or House Cup."

Andy stared at her friends for several seconds before letting out a burst of laughter. And then another. And then another, until she was clutching her stomach because she was laughing so hard that it ached. Finally, when Angelina let out a pointed cough, Andy stood up, wiping her watering eyes.

"I cannot believe you two are so daft, but what you've so idiotically labeled as 'sexual tension' is known to most sane people as animosity," said Andy. She let out another chortle. Angelina and Alicia did not look impressed.

"Right, which is why you guys can finish each other's sentences—"

"Fred and George do that all the time! What, do you think they need to shag as well?" asked Andy. "Because that's pretty sick if you do, I have to tell you."

Angelina continued on as if she hadn't even heard Andy, "—and constantly crack jokes that are only funny to you, and can never stand who the other person is dating."

"Oliver has this ridiculous notion that when I date I spend less time focusing on Quidditch—so not true, by the way—and all of his girlfriends are bints," said Andy. She stared at her two hopelessly impaired friends and shook her head; her face was a study in condescension. "You two really need to stop reading into things so much. Now, I'm going to go down to the Pitch. Hopefully, I'll meet Katie on the way, but if I don't, could you tell her to meet me down there? Thanks."

With that, Andy left her dorm and headed down to the Pitch, leaving her roommates to stew. They were positive that they weren't imagining things.

And they were going to prove it.

Andy's Third Year—Oliver's Fourth Year

The only reason Andy had even known about what happened to Arthur was because she was with Oliver when he got the letter. She was positive that if she hadn't been, Oliver would have left her in the dark just like everyone else.

She'd met Arthur before, of course. He was quite the opposite of Oliver in many ways—while both were rather muscular and fit, Arthur was all golden skin and light red curls; a sharp contrast to Oliver's pasty hues and dark hair. But you didn't really notice all the differences until you talked to Arthur; he was kind and chivalrous, the epitome of a Gryffindor. Oliver was a Gryffindor, yes, but Andy wasn't around for most of it. She knew Oliver was foolhardy and reckless, but the chivalry he mostly left for his latest conquest, so she didn't see it much.

The year previous had been Arthur's seventh year, and he'd taught Oliver and Andy how to play chess the "right way, not like those bloody cowardly Slytherin" as he put it. He'd been nice; hanging out with them even when his friends wanted to play Quidditch. Though later, Oliver said it was only because Quidditch was the one thing Arthur wasn't good at. Still, Andy preferred to think that he was just nice.

Andy had always secretly thought that either Arthur or Oliver was adopted, because they were so incredibly different. Arthur, Andy sometimes thought, was the reincarnation of Godric Gryffindor himself. And Oliver? Well, Oliver was a sarcastic, annoying, stupid git with more ears than brains.

Surprisingly enough, though Oliver and Arthur were so different, and despite even the four year age difference, the two brothers got along famously. Not as well as Fred and George, mind, but well enough that Arthur wrote twice a month, and Oliver had never been more proud than when he learned that Arthur had been accepted as a Hit Wizard.

None of this had anything to do with why Andy picked up Oliver's letter after he stormed off without it. It was obvious to Andy—who'd received dozens of letters written on the same parchment when, inevitably, another one of her family members was sent to St. Mungo's for a usually Quidditch-related injury—that the parchment was from the Wizarding hospital. One of Andy's greatest flaws was her utter inability to keep her nose out of anything. That was why she read the letter, pure and simple.

Oliver won't even know as long as I finish reading before he gets back, reasoned Andy. She didn't count on being unable to put it down after she'd read it, though.

Dear Oliver Wood,

At 00:20 Tuesday morning, a patient was brought to our facility. He was suffering from extensive Dark Arts related wounds, and was immediately transferred to our Spell Damages ward. On further examination, it was apparent that, while the spells that had injured him were not lasting spells, the damage that they left was.

Although there was no identification on the patient, your name and two others were written on a scrap of paper in his pocket. We have contacted you in hopes that you know this man, or know someone that does.

He is approximately 6'1, with red hair and brown eyes. He has a scar on his right cheekbone, and was wearing a golden ring on his left thumb.

Please respond immediately, or, if you are a relative of this man, make your way to St. Mungo's as soon as possible.

Sincerely,

Edward C. Garl

Hospital Administrator

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

When Oliver came back down again, he was holding a bag in his hand; he stared unkindly at Andy. "I should have known that I couldn't trust you to stay out of my business."

"You're my best mate, you prat," said Andy, without any feeling. "Is this—I mean, it's Arthur, isn't it?"

"Of course it's Arthur. Who else would it bloody be?" spat Oliver. He sighed, then, and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm going to go tell Dumbledore that I have to leave, and I probably won't be back for a while, so if you could just make up some story to tell the rest of the team? I—I don't think it's any of their business—or yours, but you already know, I guess—so just make it sound good, yeah? And tell Angelina that she's in charge of the team while I'm gone."

Though Andy was a bit miffed at being over-looked for the temporary captaincy, she nodded anyway. As Oliver turned to leave, Andy spoke. "Oliver…I'm sorry. For reading the letter and for Arthur."

Oliver left without saying anything, but then, Andy supposed there really wasn't anything to say. Oliver didn't return for a week, and when he did, he had nothing to say about what happened. But then, I guess you already know all about that.

Author's Note: Is-is that what I think it is? An update? FOR REALS?

Yes, yes my incredulous friend, this is indeed an update (and quite a wordy one at that.) How are Angelina and Alicia going to prove this? Is it true (okay, that's rather obvious.) So, the real question I guess, is: DO ANDY AND OLIVER KNOW/THINK/GUESS/SUPPOSE/NOT KNOW IT'S TRUE?

And who broke Andy's broom? Was it Cassiopeia? Was it Mandy the Ravenclaw and her suspicious friend? Or was it someone else entirely?

FIND OUT SOON, I SUPPOSE!

Reviews = Love

(Though I suppose No Reviews =/= No More Updates, so do what you will.)