Chapter 3: This is a football.

Ron trailed slowly behind his classmates to the chemistry classroom on the fourth floor. Once through the door he stopped, hands in his pockets, and took in the lay of the room. It was set with rows of tables in the front, two benches per surface, facing a wall covered with three mammoth blackboards. The back of the room where he was standing had several work stations filled with many different tools, most of which he had never seen the likes of before.

Ms Masterson walked briskly through the door, closing it soundly behind her. She stopped next to Ron and gave the class a questioning look. "What are you doing at your seats? You've already wasted enough time as it is. You only have," she glanced at her watch, "an hour and twenty minutes to get your experiment done. Lab sheets are at the stations. Hop to it, then." She clapped her hands briskly to get the class moving.

While the other students rose to their feet and dug through their bags, looking for loose pencils and lab books, Ms Masterson turned to Ron, her glasses once more in place at the top of her head. "Had an exciting first day?"

Ron awkwardly adjusted the shoulder strap of his bag. "You could say that."

Her lip quirked up slightly at the corner. "I must say, Mr Weasley, you do know how to make an entrance." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye with the barest hint of amusement.

"Excuse me?"

Ms Masterson turned to face him fully. "We're a small school, Mr Weasley." She nodded her head toward the class. "Most of these students have been attending lessons together since they were in nappies. They don't take well to change. The last new student who came here struggled for almost three months to find herself a place. It was all she could do to get anyone to talk to her. You, on the other hand, come in here and in less than a day stand up to the one person most of these students have been afraid of their entire lives." She bent her head lower and said with a voice laced with conspiracy, "If you pay attention, Mr Weasley, I think you will find that many of your classmates are either talking about you as we speak or admiring you from afar. Either way, I guarantee you have not gone unnoticed."

"I'm sorry," Ron stammered. "I didn't mean to cause trouble. It's just that…"

Ms Masterson held up a halting hand. "Save your explanations for after class." She smiled kindly when she saw the droop in his shoulders. "I really am sorry, Mr Weasley. I had to ask you to stay so that Mr Kelly can't claim that I treated him unfairly. I've had to deal with Mr Kelly enough times to know that your actions more than likely did not come about unprovoked." She set a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You are not the first student to be goaded into a fight by Nigel Kelly nor will you be the last. But I do believe you are the first one to fight back. Well done."

Ms Masterson suddenly snapped to her full height as if she had been jolted out of a daydream. "Look at me, wasting your time. Drop your things off at an empty table and find yourself a lab partner. I believe station six is usually down a person." She looked up and sighed irritably at the students who were idly waiting at their tables. "This is ridiculous. I've already told you to get started." She clapped her hands. "Hop to it!" She strode away, ushering students to their stations as she went.

Ron deposited his sack at an empty table at the back of the room before quickly riffling through it in search of his lab book and a pencil. His fingers closed around a smooth shaft of cool plastic and a smile came to his lips. He pulled out what he had at first sight thought to be another of those mad, Muggle pens he had seen Hermione use, but which Mrs Granger had assured him was in fact a pencil. He hadn't believed her until she took the utensil out of its shiny, clear plastic and pressed down on the soft end until a thin bit of silver led protruded from the tip.

Ron gave the pencil a satisfying click before taking up his new lab book and moving toward station six. He glanced up as he neared the station and came to a sudden stop. A silent oath escaped his lips. This was just what he needed, another reason for Nigel Kelly to be angry with him. There leaning over the tall workbench, talking to the girl standing on the other side, was the girl he had talked to outside near the stone benches.

Ron cautiously approached the table and set his book down. "Hello."

"Hi." The boy who had sat next to him during Literature extended his hand across the surface for Ron to take. "My name is Logan, Logan Grayson."

Ron gave Logan a good once over before taking his hand. "Ron Weasley."

The other boy was just shy of Ron's height, the top of his head barely reaching Ron's eye level. His hair was long, nearly shoulder length, dark brown and curly. He had a strong chin, dark brown eyes, and a crooked smile.

"Well done, mate." Logan smiled broadly as he released Ron's hand. "Absolutely brilliant, the way you stood up to Kelly like that. Don't think I've ever seen anyone do it before."

The tips of Ron's ears began to turn red. "It was no big deal."

"Wrong. It's a very big deal." Standing beside Logan was the same girl that had got his book for him earlier that day in Knightly's lesson. "Nigel Kelly thinks that because his father is rich he can get away with whatever he wants; and he does because the Headmaster is too scared to do anything about it."

Logan flipped his lab book open with obvious annoyance. "And without Headmaster Edgar behind them the teachers are powerless to do anything."

"Why doesn't the Headmaster support them?"

"Because, Edgar thinks if he does Mr Kelly will pull his support from the school." Logan scowled. "And what would the school do without another H. J. Kelly auditorium?"

"Stupid prat." The dark sinned girl poured a package of indigo and brown stones into a mortar before taking up a pestle to grind at them. "Ugly wanker." Her eyes narrowed at Kelly and his three friends. "Won't leave Lottie alone." She jabbed angrily at the stones, the force of which threw one out of the shallow basin to skittle across the table toward Ron.

"Teresa!" The girl standing to Ron's right seethed through her teeth. 'Stop it,' he watched her mouth to her friend. She lifted her right brow meaningfully and Teresa, who had been about to speak, shut her mouth and focused on the grinding of the rocks before her.

"Here!" The girl whom Ron now knew must be Lottie handed him a prepared pestle and mortar. "Make yourself useful and grind these."

Not wanting to irritate her any further, Ron took up the pestle and quickly and methodically began grinding the stones into a smooth powder. Sending out a silent prayer of thanks for all those years he had been forced to grind ingredients for Potions, Ron let his hands go through the familiar action while his eyes watched Lottie curiously. He quickly noted how tense and stiff her shoulders seemed to be and how her movements were sharp and rough with anger.

Feeling that her unease and bad humour must have been caused by him, Ron cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if…if I offended you earlier."

"Offended me?" Lottie lowered her lab script so that she could look at him over the top. "What are you talking about?"

"Listen, I've got that look enough times to know when a girl is annoyed with me."

She sighed heavily. "Of course I'm not annoyed with you," She turned to look at him, leaning her hip against the table top. "What on earth gave you that idea?"

Ron said nothing but raised a brow at her, his expression telling her all she needed.

"Oh." Some of the aggression eased from her stance. "Sorry about that." She turned back to the table and lifted the lab script to eye level, giving the illusion she was reading. "Nigel Kelly just makes me uneasy. Somehow he got this maggot into his head last year that if he pestered me enough or threatened me enough I would agree to go out with him." Lottie turned her head to the left, prompting Ron to do so as well. He rolled his eyes when he saw that Nigel and his three cronies were busy setting random objects on fire with a flame that came steadily out of the end of a metal tube. "I wish he would just leave me alone."

Lottie's lip twitched to the side in agitation a moment before she turned her amber eyes on Ron. "Thank you, by the way. For what you did today." She glanced down at the table. "For what you said…about girls."

"What about them?"

Lottie tilted her head to the side in exasperation. "About girls not being anyone's property."

"Oh." The barest hint of colour began to creep along his cheeks. Ron ran his hand across his neck just below the hair line. "You heard that?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Thank you."

"Forget it. It's nothing. If you had ever met my sister, or my friend Hermione for that matter, you wouldn't be surprised." Ron tapped the pestle against the side of the mortar and handed the sample over to Lottie for inspection. "Is that good enough?"

Lottie touched her fingers to the pulverized rock and found the powder was light and soft to the touch. "Yeah," she said with a tint of surprise in her voice. "I think that's good enough." She tilted the mortar slightly so that Logan and Teresa could see the result of Ron's effort. "What do you think?"

"Wow," Teresa grunted, smashing the pastel against her stones. "How did you do that so fast?"

Ron glanced at the multi-coloured powder resting in the shallow basin. "That? Don't know. Had a lot of practice, I reckon. What are we doing, anyway?" he asked as he watched Lottie meticulously begin to scoop the powder into a dish sitting on top of a raised metal contraption.

"Right now I am weighing the ore." She paused to check the digital dial. "And after that we're going to extract the copper out of the rock."

"Oh." Ron nodded his head agreeably despite the fact that he had no clue what she was talking about.

"Here." Sensing his confusion Lottie handed him the lab script without looking up. "Read this. Perhaps it will make more sense."

Ron read through the instructions twice before he thought he had a fairly good understanding of what he was suppose to be doing. He set the lab script aside in time to see Lottie take the powder off the scale and record the weight in her lab notebook. Following her lead, Ron did the same. Twenty minutes later, he and Lottie were waiting for the last of the bright blue liquid to sift through the filter paper, while Logan and Teresa, as well as most of the other students in the class, were just beginning to weigh their coarsely ground samples.

Lottie began to tap the pads of her fingers methodically on the surface of the table while she waited, and with nothing more pressing to do, Ron watched as each finger fell. The tapping suddenly ceased with a light smack of her hand against the surface. "You're very good at this Ron." She said suddenly, surprising him with the unexpected compliment.

"With what?"

"This?" Lottie nodded her head towards their experiment.

"No!" Ron objected with a snort. "Potions was always one of my worst subjects."

"Potions?" Lottie's brows arched high with intrigue. "What an interesting choice of words."

Ron's eyes widened at the realisation of what he had let slip. "Did I say potions?" His voice came out an octave higher with a hint of uncomfortable laughter. "I me-meant chem…chem…chemistry." He popped his fingers when the word finally came out. It's sort of a…ah a joke between me and my friends at my old school. You know…potions…chemistry." He ended with an awkward chuckle, tugging at the collar of his shirt, which seemed to be rapidly tightening around his neck.

"Really?" Lottie turned toward him, eyes bright with curiosity. "Is chemistry the only class you renamed or are there others?"

"Umm…well…I…no. I mean yes. I mean… w-we have others."

"Like what?"

Ron shook his head emphatically. "That's between me and my friends," he offered lamely.

It looked as if Lottie was about to object but Teresa's voice cut in first. "Will you two be quiet?" she begged. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Sorry, Nessy."

"Nessy?" Ron jumped eagerly at the chance to change the subject.

"Yeah." Lottie nodded. "Teresa's last name is Ness. So we call her Nessy. You know, like the Loch Ness Monster.

"The Loch Ness Monster?" Ron stared at her a moment in incomprehension. "Wait. You mean…" he lowered his voice, "how do you know about them?"

"Know about who?"

"The dragons that live in Loch Ness. How do you know about them? I would have thought they would have kept that secret."

"Come off it, Ron." Lottie lowered her voice so the others couldn't hear her. "All Muggles have heard of the Loch Ness Monster. Granted, very few have actually seen it. Many theorise on what it is. I've never heard dragons before, though. That's quite interesting. You have a vivid imagination. "

"You have no idea." Ron rolled his eyes. "Wait." His bright blue eyes snapped toward her suddenly. "What did you say?"

"You have a very interesting imagination."

"No, no. Not that. What did you say about Muggles."

"Muggles?" She chuckled. "What's a Muggle?" Lottie pulled the funnel off the top of the beaker and worked quickly, adding more chemicals to the solution before pouring it through the filter paper again.

Feeling lost and suddenly confused, Ron took up the lab script and stared blindly at it while he tried to process what had just happened. He had to be more careful. That was three times now he had slipped and mentioned the wizarding world. And what of Lottie? He could have sworn he heard her say…

"Ron," she paused a moment as she tilted her head, "have you ever read The Lord of the Rings?"

"What?" he straightened at the sound of her voice.

"The Lord of the Rings?" She repeated. "It's a very good series. I read all three books a few summers back."

"No." He shook his head. "I don't read unless I have to. Why?"

"I think you should give them a try. They're hard to get into, but you might enjoy them."

"Really?" Ron watched her uneasily. "Why's that?"

"Because, they're about…magic." Her brow lifted at the word and she glanced over at him as if to gauge his reaction. "And magical creatures like trolls and elves, dwarves and…wizards."

Ron laughed uneasily, pushing his red hair back out of his eyes. "Why would I be interested in stories about that? Magic and w-wizards? What nonsense."

Lottie shrugged. "Maybe to some. But I don't think it is to you." She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "In fact," she stopped her task and turned to look him straight in the eye, "I think it's very important to you."

"How do you know that?" Ron croaked, finding it more and more difficult to breathe, let alone speak.

"Because, I know you. You're Ron Weasley. You have five older brothers, right?" he nodded. "And two of them are twins by the names of Fred and George. They own a joke shop. You're best friends with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. You're Keeper and Prefect and last year you made a fool of yourself snogging a girl named Lavender Brown every chance you had."

Ron backed a step away from her. "How do you know that?"

"Because my sister told me." She held out her hand. "Hi. My name is Ellette Bell. Katie Bell's younger sister," she explained when Ron made no signs of making the connection. "I believe you and my sister were housemates and teammates,"

"I know who Katie Bell is," Ron said sharply. "I just…I didn't know she had a sister."

Lottie shrugged. "Not many know I have a sister either. It's easier that way, don't you think?" Lottie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and that's when Ron saw it.

"Wow. Katie's sister." He shook his head with confusion. "I should have known." He took a step to the left and crouched a little so that he could better see her face. "I can see the resemblance."

"You think so?" She glanced up at him quickly before looking away. "I know we have the same eyes…"

"And mouth, cheeks, chin…I can't believe this." He took another step toward her, bringing him right up to her side. "You know who and what I am?"

"Of course I do." She smiled warmly at him. "You're the Weasley King. Master of the ri…goal!" She amended when she saw Logan watching them with interest. Lottie smiled at her friend. "Ron guarded the goal for his house team at his old school," she explained. "Rumour has it he was quite good."

"No," Ron disagreed, his face flushing pink with embarrassment. "I was only all right. They only had me play because there was no one else."

"That's not what Katie said. She said you were really good. You just suffered from nerves every once in a while. He played on the same team as my sister." She nodded her head toward Ron.

"Wait," Logan eyes widened with surprise. "Boys and girls played football on the same team at your school?"

"Bloody hell, Logan." Teresa rolled herss. "What kind of question is that?"

"What? Boys and girls don't usually play on the same team."

"And you are absolutely hopeless. Lottie tells us Ron played on the same team as her sister and that's what you focus on?"

"Well, what am I supposed to focus on?"

"I don't know. Perhaps that fact that he knows her sister?"

"So?"

Teresa shook her head with disgust. "You're impossible." She turned back to Ron. "So Ron, tell me about Katie. What is she like?

"Wait." Logan's head popped up, his mind finally catching up with the conversation. "You know Katie?"

"Yes."

"Katie Bell?"

"Yes."

"The Katie Bell?"

"Yes, the Katie Bell. Is there suppose to be another one?"

"See, Logan." Teresa jabbed him in the side with her elbow. "I told you she exists."

Ron looked questioningly at him. "Why wouldn't you believe she exists?"

"Because," Logan rubbed at his chest where it was beginning to smart. "No one here has ever seen her. Starting to think Lottie made her up, meself."

"Mr Grayson, Miss Ness. Focus, please." Ms Masterson stopped at their station, a disapproving glare focused on the pair. "You have less then half an hour to finish. Mr Weasley, Miss Bell," she turned to reprimand them as well but the words died in her throat when she saw their extracted copper lying out to dry. She paused a moment before holding out her hand. "May I see your lab books, please?"

"Of course." Lottie quickly took up both of their books and handed them around Ron to the teacher. Masterson made quick work of scanning the pages before handing them back. "Very well. Mr Weasley, your note-taking skills need work. Perhaps if you ask Miss Bell politely she would give you a few pointers. Otherwise, you seem to know what you are doing. Well done. Clean up your station, then go back to your seats."

Following Lottie's lead, Ron closed his lab book and began scrubbing their instruments in the sink. "Ron," Lottie stopped with a beaker only half washed, "What are you doing after school?"

"Me?" he looked over at her. "I'm going back to the Granger's house. Why?"

Lottie's eyes sparkled as a mischievous smile appeared on her lips. "Well, now you're not. You're going to spend the afternoon with me."

"Two hours of detention on your first day of school." Lottie whistled low in her throat. "That has to be some kind of record."

A hog-like snort escaped Ron's throat as he readjusted the strap of his school bag. "Hardly," he said with an enigmatic tone. "Fred and George got ten on theirs."

"Total?" She pushed open the door onto the school yard and stepped out into the bright sunshine.

"Each."

"Each?" Lottie's eyes bugged comically. "How do you get ten hours of detention on your first day of school? There's not even ten hours in a school day!"

"Hell if I know." Ron shrugged indifferently. "I just remember Mum going ballistic when she received that owl from McGongall."

"I can't imagine why," Lottie said sardonically. "It's not like ten hours is an overly exuberant number."

"It isn't," Ron agreed with a meek smile, finding it hard not to chuckle when he saw the incredulous shock on her face. "Not where Fred and George are concerned," he clarified. "Ten hours is nothing in the lake of trouble those two like to swim in."

"I can only imagine," she muttered under her breath. "Katie talks about them a lot, you know. She's always telling Mum and Dad some crazy story about them and the things they get caught up in. Is it really true that they released a swamp inside the school?

"Yep," Ron nodded. "Fifth year, well, their seventh. It was part of their campaign to get rid of Umbridge."

"Seriously? I always thought she was trying to take the mickey out of me. Bloody hell," her eyes widened with admiration, "I think I'd like to meet them. They sound like they're a real laugh."

Ron shrugged and jammed his hands into his pockets, lowering his head to block his eyes from the intense sunlight.

The two walked on in silence until they were beneath the shade of a mammoth tree that stood on a small rise overlooking the expansive school grounds. Following her lead Ron dropped his bag at his feet, folded his arms over his chest, crossed one foot over the other, and leaned his shoulder against the rough bark of the tree.

"Ahhh…" Lottie sighed after dropping her own duffle and flinging her arms out. "Isn't that delicious?" she inhaled deep and sighed at the sight of a man in faded coveralls pushing a machine across the football pitch that left a crisp white line in its wake.

"What?" Ron asked in an obvious state of puzzlement.

Lottie laughed merrily stepping out from underneath the shade of the tree and turning in a slow circle. "The sun… the wind… the clouds. The sent of fresh cut grass and newly laid paint." She turned to him with a warm smile on her lips. "There's nothing like being outside on a day like this."

"If you say so."

Ignoring Ron's lack of response Lottie turned her face up to the sun one last time, breathed deep, then returned to the shade of the tree. Crouching down beside the bag she had dropped, Lottie pulled the zipper and the canvas fell open to reveal a pair of socks, more then one plastic bottle filled with water, strange shoes that had jagged bottoms, a light, shinny shirt in navy blue and a strange ball that was made of patches of black and white material.

Her fingers closed around the smooth, glossy ball and with a quick flick of the wrist sent it high above her head, allowing her enough time to straighten to her full height before bringing up her knee, connecting with the ball, and sending it high once again.

Four times she juggled it off her right knee before getting under it and butting it with her brow toward Ron who was forced to uncross his arms and catch it or have his skull rammed into the trunk of the tree with the force of the impact.

"What is this?" He rolled the ball through and over his hands several times before tossing it back into her waiting fingers.

"This, my friend, is what makes the best game in the world possible. This," she gave the ball a toss in the air, "is a football."

Ron watched with interest as she once again set the ball into motion, bouncing it off her knee, juggling it between her feet, popping it in the air and catching it in her hands.

"You're very good at that," he observed with an appreciative nod of his head.

Lottie beamed at him. "Thanks." Her eyes darted to the side and a slow, calculated smile slid across her face. She took up her duffle, nodded her head to the side and took off toward the pitch, expecting Ron to follow behind her. "Football is my favorite thing in the world," she explained, spinning the ball between her index fingers, watching it rotate with an almost tender smile on her lips. "I almost always have a ball near by. In fact I feel almost… I know this is going to sound crazy, but…I almost feel naked without it." She stole a quick peek to gauge Ron's reaction. "Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah." He nodded, the fingers of his right hand reflexively tightening, as if curving around the shaft of a wand. "I know exactly what you mean." He stared blindly ahead a few moments before blinking twice and giving his head a firm shake to clear it. "Why is this the first time I've seen you with a ball then? If it were me I would have it on me all the time."

"I did." Lottie sighed dramatically, hugging the ball tight to her side with her arm. "But my parents got so many complaints from teachers about me being a disruption in class because of it that they threatened to pull me from the school team if I were caught in school with it again. So it stays in my duffle until the last bell rings and then it comes out."

"Do Logan and Teresa play?"

A curt shout of laughter burst from Lottie's lips and her eyes gave a decisive roll. "Do Logan and Teresa play? That would be an emphatic yes and an emphatic no."

"What do you mean?"

"Logan," she said, "is in love with the game. If there is a person on this planet who could possibly love football more then me, it would be him. He practices twice as hard and twice as long as the rest of his teammates and demands nothing short of excellence. He was named captain at the ripe old age of thirteen, the youngest person named captain in almost thirty years. You should see the walls of his bedroom. Every inch is covered with posters and pinups and team flags. It's insane."

"Right." Ron nodded. "So he's the emphatic yes which means…Teresa is the emphatic no."

"Spot on." Lottie laughed. "No, Nessy doesn't play. She's an odd case though. She hates to play. You couldn't pay her to take the field."

"Why?"

Lottie rolled her eyes. "Because she hates to run. And I mean hates to run. She always says the only way she will ever run is if someone is chasing her with a bat, a gun or a knife. Other than that she doesn't see a point. 'I don't get it,'" Lottie began in a very poor impersonation of Teresa. "'Why would anyone want to run up and down a field for hours on end? That isn't fun.'"

"Okay, Teresa definitely hates football. Got it."

"No, see that's the strange bit. She doesn't hate football. She hates to play football, but she loves to watch. I think she might get more excited watching the game than Logan or I do playing. But then again, fans are always worse than the players."

"So where is Teresa now?"

Lottie sighed and shook her head with disappointment. "Ron, you have got to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Calling her Teresa." She said her friend's name as if it were repugnant to her. "Nobody does that. We all call her Nessy."

"But…but I hardly know her." Ron objected. "It wouldn't feel right."

"Ron." Lottie said smartly. "Who cares if you hardly know her? Her name is Nessy. Remember it. Love it. Use it."

"Fine!" he relented, deciding it was better to give in than to alienate the one person, other than the Grangers, who knew about him and had made an effort to make him feel welcome. "Whatever. Where is Nessy now?"

Lottie heaved a great, heartrending sigh as if it mortally wounded her to utter the words. "Dance lessons," she whispered with deride mortification.

"Dance lessons?" Ron asked, clearly not understanding.

"Yes! Dance lessons! " Her hand smacked the side of her leg. "And yet, I'm the crazy one?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nessy," Lottie said throwing her ball over the hip high chain link fence, "has lessons three days a week," she threw her leg up onto the metal pole the fence was suspended from, "for three hours a day." She pushed off the ground with her left foot and was easily up and over the fence, nodding for Ron to follow. "Can you believe that? She would rather spend three hours every other day standing around, tapping her toes, than playing football with me. I know," she bowed her head, but looked up at him with her eyes, "mental, right?"

"I…I don't know," Ron stammered as he swung his legs over the fence, his right shoe catching on the jagged edge, causing him to unbalance and nearly fall. "I thought you said she was at dance lessons."

"She is."

"Then what's she doing standing around tapping her toes for?"

"No, no, no." Lottie tossed her arm over his shoulders and drew him further onto the field all the while shaking her head. "She's tapping her toes because that is a form of dancing. It's called tap dance. See, you wear this special shoe so that when you tap your foot on the floor it makes a great deal of racket. It's just about its only redeeming quality. But Nessy seams to enjoy it so…who am I to complain?" Lottie let her arm drop away from his shoulders. "Such a waste. She could have been an amazing footballer. But at least she's not taking ballet anymore. That was unbearable."

"Why?"

"Because. Ballet is so…so…girly."

"All right." Ron nodded, clearly not understanding. "Why'd she quit?"

"I don't know." Lottie shrugged. "No one really does. The best I can work out is that she just got too good." Ron narrowed his eyes incredulously at her. "Look, Nessy was…amazing. I actually watched her dance a few times, you know, friendly support, that kind of thing. Anyway, she was best in her class. Her teachers all thought she had real potential, so they pushed her. They wanted her to do better, to be the best, to go really far. And her mum was even worse. Nagging her to eat right, to practise more, expecting nothing short of perfection until one day Nessy snapped. She'd had enough. She and her mum got in a huge row that ended in tears. She called me at two in the morning, crying her heart out. I calmed her down as best I could and told her that if it didn't make her happy then she should give it up." Lottie shrugged again. "The next day she went to her teachers and quit, found herself another studio and took up tap. And of course she's really good at that as well and I'm certain that when she gets too good, which she undoubtedly will, she'll quit and take up something else. That's just her way, and I love her for it. Although," Lottie toed her ball off the ground and up into her hands, "sometimes I can't believe I am friends with such a girl. It's almost sickening. Which is why," she tossed the ball to him. "I'm determined to make friends with you. Guard the goal for me?"

Ron looked at the ball in his hands and the goal that was standing large and proud behind them. "You want me to guard that?"

"Yep." She pulled his bag off his shoulder and dropped it on the ground next to hers. "Katie said you were a great Keeper, when you were on form. I want to see it for myself. Come on," her fingers circled around his arm and drew him toward the goal, "it'll be fun." She promised throwing him off with her fetching smile.

"Bu…bu…but I've only ever guarded Quidditch hoops."

"So?"

"Sooo… it's completely different. I guard three hoops while on a broom fifty feet in the air."

"Which means," she persisted, "one goal on the ground should be much easier." She deposited him in the centre of the goal and snatched the ball from his long fingers, not giving him a chance to protest. She took a few paces back. "I'm going to start easy on you," she set the ball on the ground, "let you get a feel for the game before I step it up a pace. How does that sound?"

"Umm…"

Without waiting to hear his response she drew back her foot and sent the ball speeding toward the net. Instinctively Ron lunged to the right after it. His fingers slid around the smooth surface and he caught the ball easily. He looked down at his hands in surprise before glancing up at Lottie. His look of astonishment and elation morphed into a glare of annoyance. "Oi." He tossed the ball back. "You couldn't give me a warning first?"

Lottie stopped the ball with her body so that it dropped at her feet. "Where would the fun be in that? Besides," she bumped the ball back into the air, "no striker gives a warning before he tries for a goal." Her foot connected soundly and the ball soared toward the upper right corner of the net.

Ron crouched low then sprung up like a spring and snatched the ball out of the air, pulling it securely to his chest. However, by the time he noticed he was going to collide with the goal post, it was too late.

His shoulder rammed painfully into the metal frame, stopping his sideward progress and causing him to fall heavily to the ground, a painful grunt escaping his lips upon impact.

"Ron!" Lottie cried, running forward and flinging herself at his side with concern. "Ron, are you all right?"

Slowly, the redhead turned over from his side onto his back, his hands still holding the ball to his chest. "I caught the ball." He smirked.

"You stupid prat." She hit him sharply on the shoulder. "You don't have to catch the ball every time, just stop it from going in the net. Keep doing stupid stunts like that and you're going to hurt yourself."

Ron tossed the ball to the side before pushing himself into a sitting position, his eyes bright with mirth. "Lottie, I've fallen off a flying broom. Compared to that, what's a few feet?"

"We'll I've seen experienced players take a fall like that and dislocate their shoulder. So don't," she jabbed him in the chest, "be smug."

"What does dislocate mean?"

The girl stared with mild surprise. "You don't know what dislocate means?"

"No."

"Well… I guess it means your arm and shoulder get painfully separated."

"Completely?" Ron clutched at his arm, his eyes widening in horror.

"No," she couldn't help but laugh, "not completely. I just meant that the two bones pull away from each other, sometimes some muscles tear but your arm doesn't completely come off."

He tested his shoulder by rolling it forward and back. "It feels fine to me."

"This time. Next time you might not be so lucky. Just block the ball, don't worry about catching it."

"Easier said than done." Ron muttered as he rose to his feet.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing, it's just…well, you don't have to catch the ball in Quidditch either. It just makes the game easier. You see, you have more control that way. You decide who gets the Quaffle. If you hold on to it you can give your team a chance to catch their breath, or steady themselves on their brooms without having to worry about catching the ball or having another player barreling down on them. Besides, if you don't catch it then the responsibility falls on one of the other teammates and if they miss either the other teams gets the Quaffle or it falls to the ground then you have to fly all the way down there to pick it up and it's just easier if you catch it."

Lottie trotted backwards to the penalty line. "Well, this isn't Quidditch, Ron. You don't have to fly to the ground to retrieve the ball. All you have to do is block the goal. Let's try it again."

Ron crouched low, spreading his feet shoulder length apart, preparing for the ball that would be flying at him any moment. Lottie drew back her foot. Her leg swung forward and her shoe connected with the shinny surface and the ball flew in a low arc toward the goal.

Ron threw his hands up and reflected the ball back to Lottie who instinctively threw herself in the air and with a side swipe of her leg volleyed the ball back at the net. Being father away from the ball then he had been the last time Ron was forced to lunge after it and barely caught it at the tip of his fingers before landing on the ground.

"You see?" he grunted as he rolled to his feet. "If I block the ball there's a chance I won't be ready the next time the Chaser tries for a point. But if I catch it," he gave the ball a small toss, "I also have some time to relax and catch my breath."

"Fine." Lottie rolled her eyes and caught the ball when Ron tossed it to her. "Just shut up and block the net."

Ron smiled with satisfaction as he readied himself. He was right and Lottie knew it. As if she was able to read his thoughts, her eyes narrowed and the ball flew suddenly straight for his head.

The two teenagers set into a rigorous rhythm of kick and catch. When it became apparent to both Ron and Lottie that he was more competent on his feet than they had thought, Lottie picked it up a pace and tried her best to get the ball past him. With each failed attempt at a goal the honey-haired girl became more determined and Ron more elated. He seemed almost unstoppable.

Only once did Lottie come close to scoring on Ron. The ball had flown high and fast toward the top left corner of the goal. If he had jumped a second later he would have missed completely. As it was, the very tips of his fingers made contact with the ball, jarring it off course enough that it hit the metal frame and bounced off, landing at Lottie's feet.

"Damn, Weasley," Lottie pushed her sweat slicked hair back off her face. "Are you sure you never played before?"

A slow, sloppy grin spread across his lips. "Nope." He shook his fringe of hair back out of his eyes. "Never." The strands of red fell back in place and Lottie watched intently as he lifted his hand and pushed them back once more to reveal his bright blue eyes. They were all but glowing with an intense inner fire. If Lottie had known Ron as well as Harry and Hermione did she would have recognised the gleam as the one he got whenever he was having the most fun.

"Weasley!" Ron looked up and Lottie spun around to see Logan Grayson jogging toward them, his smile visible from half a pitch away. He raised his hand in greeting. "Hello Lottie." He greeted his friend with a nod.

"Logan." She nodded back.

"Weasley," Logan's hands clapped together then rubbed vigorously like a child eager for an expected treat. "Go change. Practice starts in ten minutes."

The half smile that had worked its way onto Ron's lips faded into a perplexed frown. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Logan laughed mirthlessly while jabbing his thumb in Ron's direction. "Can you believe this guy? Defends the net against one of the best strikers I've ever seen, doesn't let a single goal in, and asks me what I'm talking about." Logan shook his head, his excited smile still firmly in place. "I was watching you, Weasley. You're good. Really good. I assume you'll want a trial. If it were up to me I'd just give you the slot, but Coach likes to do things fair. Give every one a chance."

"Wait, wait, wait." Ron held up his hand to stop Logan's rambling tongue. "What exactly are we talking about here?"

"Look Weasley," Logan stepped toward him, "if you want me to beg…just say the word and I will."

"That won't be necessary, Logan," Lottie chipped in brightly. "Ron," she placed a hand on his shoulder drawing his confused expression off of Logan and onto herself. "Do you have something you can change into?"

"Wha- no. I wasn't planning on…"

"I didn't think so." She cut him off. "Logan," she jerked her head toward the school building, "you go find him some clothes to wear. He'll be there in a minute."

"Great." Logan clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Don't take too long though. Coach hates to be kept waiting."

With that settled Logan turned and trotted away, his arms pumping lightly at his side.

"What the hell?" Ron rounded on the smiling Lottie the moment Logan was out of range. "Did you just tell him that I would play for his mad Muggle team?"

Lottie beamed proudly at him. "Yes, I did."

A dark shade of crimson started at Ron's neck and spread quickly over his face, his features tightening with fury. "Why did…Who do you…What gives you the right? I never said I wanted to play."

"Well why not?" She crossed her arms smartly over her chest. "What else have you got to do after school?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort but stopped mouth agape. He couldn't think of a single thing. He had school work of course, but without Harry and Hermione here for company or the Horcrux search to help with, he was at a complete loss of what to do with himself. "That's not the point," he said argumentatively. "I don't need a trial because I'm not going to be here very long."

"You're not?" The smug look on Lottie's face disappeared "Why? Are you going back to Hogwarts?"

"Yes. No. Maybe..." He corrected at her pointed look. "I hope so. But even if I never go back I'm only staying in school through March, then I'm out of here."

"Let me get this straight," Lottie's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to try out for the football team because you are going to wait, in the vain hope that someday you can return to the wizard world."

"Yep." Ron nodded. "That sounds about right."

"But that doesn't make any sense. What if you never go back to Hogwarts? What if you're stuck here for the rest of your life? What are you going to do? Sit around the Granger's house, eat crisps and watch TV?"

"I never…"

"How foolish of me," she cut in over him, "to actually think you might want to have fun and make a few friends. Thank you, Ronald for stopping me before I wasted anymore of my time trying to be yours." She paused long enough to toe the ball onto the top of her foot and flick it into the air, catching it smoothly in her hands.

"Lottie!" Ron called after her when she turned on her heel and walked quickly across the field toward the stands. Feeling a deep pang of guilt he went after her. "Lottie, wait! Lottie, please stop." He reached out a hand when he caught up with her and placed it on her shoulder. "You weren't wasting your time."

"Really?" She gave her shoulder a violent jerk, dislodging his hand. "Does that mean you won't drop me like yesterdays socks if Hogwarts comes calling wanting you back?"

"Please," Ron stopped, eyes rolling. "Like you would ever let that happen." Instead of chuckling like Ron half expected she ignored him and continued on toward the tunnel underneath the massive cement structure that made up the bleachers. "Listen, you have no idea what is going on right now. There's a war. Harry and Hermione, they need me."

"Then what are you doing here?" Lottie spun on him suddenly.

She watched him physically retract inside of him. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Then don't blame me for not understanding." She punctuated each word with a jab to the chest.

"Lottie," he took after her once again but she disappeared behind a door labeled 'Ladies' before he could stop her. "Lottie, please," He pounded on the door. "I need your help. I don't know what I'm doing."

Ron jumped back from the ladies locker room at the sound of the door behind him groaning open. Logan's head appeared a second later. "Weasley," he stepped into the passage "Come on. I found a pair of track bottoms and a shirt for you to wear."

"Logan, look…I don't think…" What ever excuse he was about to make as to why he couldn't try out for the team died in his throat. Lottie had a point. He was of no help to Harry here. If he were completely honest, he was never any help to Harry. Everything he did and touched ended in disaster. Take in point his current situation. If he had just been more careful he might not be here. And honestly, now that he was, what were the chances he would get to go back? The Ministry didn't seem optimistic about his case; not a single official he had spoken with thought there was anything that could be done. All signs pointed to him being trapped here in the Muggle world for a very long time. What more did he stand to lose by trying to fit in?

"I…I don't think those clothes are going to fit me," he said lamely.

Logan glanced at the hunter orange bottoms and lime green top and chuckled. "Size is the least of your problems, mate." He tossed the garments to Ron. "Bring your own clothes tomorrow and it won't be an issue."

"Who say's I'm coming back tomorrow?"

"If Coach Mansfield has anything to say about it you will."

Free of her constricting school uniform and suited up for her own football practice later that afternoon, Lottie found a place on the top row of benches in the stadium, directly in front of the announcer's booth. She leaned back against the box, braced her feet on the next bench, set her wrists atop her knees and spun her football between her two index fingers. She was still angry with Ron, but seeing as he had agreed to a trial when he really didn't want to play, she would stay and watch. For… moral support and stuff. Besides, something about the tall redhead intrigued her. In some ways he was exactly the way Katie described him. Tall, ginger-haired, bright blue eyes, lopsided grin and a quirky sort of handsomeness about him. And yet he was so very different.

Katie described him as loud and funny and someone who often spoke without thinking. This Ron wasn't any of those things. He was quiet and excluding that scene in the schoolyard today with Nigel Kelly, quite reserved, never saying anything brash. Every thought was meticulously examined before spoken. Of course this drastic change could be attributed to his need for secrecy. One little slip and the average person would want to send him packing straight into the mental institution. She would have to keep an eye on him. In the heat of the moment Kelly hadn't caught his slip up about wands and witches, but she had. And who knew what the others who had been listening had heard.

For reasons she didn't quite understand, she felt protective of Ron Weasley. Something bad had happened to him recently; she didn't know how she knew, but she did, and if he let her she would try and make his stay here easier. But that didn't mean she was going to let him walk all over her and take her for granted.

Lottie sat up when she spotted Ron's tall frame jogging onto the field dressed in the most horrendous combination of orange bottom and green top she had ever seen. Neither colour did anything for his complexion and both shades contrasted hideously not only with each other, but with his hair.

Logan, who was standing near a bald man with thick black spectacles wearing a navy tracksuit, lifted his hand and motioned Ron over to him. As the redhead approached, Coach Mansfield extended his hand, which Ron immediately reached for and shook exuberantly.

From where Lottie sat she couldn't hear what was being said, but after listening to the coach intently for several minutes, nodding his head every once in a while, Ron and Logan took off at a steady pace around the field. The shrill sound of the coach's whistle vibrated off the thick walls of the stadium and the team instantly organized itself into lines. While Ron and Logan ran laps, the boys performed drills. They were like a smooth machine, working as one, their movements precise and clean.

Ron and Logan were just beginning their sixth and final lap when Lottie heard her name called from the right. Two of her fellow teammates were climbing the steps toward her.

"Brenda? Sarah?" Lottie straightened in her seat. "What are you doing here?"

The two girls sat on the bench at Lottie's feet, their inside legs tucked up underneath them so that they could sit turned in facing each other.

Brenda, a pretty girl with dark brown hair, highlighted with thick chunks of blond, snapped her gum between her brightly painted lips. "Jon and Brian have practice."

"We always stay and watch," Sarah chimed in, pulling out a tube of colored lip gloss and applying it to her lips. "The real question is what are you doing here?"

Lottie directed their gaze to Ron who was stretching his arms over his head as he moved into position in front of the goal. "Logan convinced Mansfield to give Ron Weasley a trial."

"Really?" Two brows arched high as the girls spun simultaneously to better face the field.

"I didn't know the new boy played." Even with Sarah's back to her, Lottie knew the bleach-blonde girl's eyes were raised in interest.

Below them on the field the boys had broken from drill formation and were now gathering in a semi circle around the goal with the five highest scorers lining up at the penalty line.

Brenda turned to question her but Lottie made a slashing motion with her hand. "Shh, I'm trying to watch this."

She knew Coach Mansfield's style. He was going to put Ron under heavy artillery. If he couldn't stand up to the pressure Coach wanted to know now. For the next ten minutes Ron was going to be put under a grueling drill of continuous goal tending. The five kickers, Colin, Mike, Ben, Blake and Logan, would kick goals, one after the other while the rest of the team retrieved the balls and set them. All Ron had to do was stop the balls going in the net.

At the coach's nod Colin took a step back, preparing to let fly the first kick. His foot connected solidly with the ball and it sprung like a bullet toward the left side of the net.

Ron stood there, frozen, as the ball came speeding closer. For a moment it seemed like he would let the ball sail into the net without making any effort to stop it but then he sprung into action. With lightning fast reflexes he lunged to his side, snatched the ball easily out of the air, tucked his body around it which gave him the momentum to roll to his feet and toss it back to Colin.

The moment the ball left his hands another came soaring toward the goal. After watching Ron catch or deflect the next six attempts, Lottie eased back in her seat, a smug smile on her lips. Ron was going to be just fine.

After ten minutes of punishing assault by footballs, Ron failed to save only one goal. After catching and releasing the final attempt Ron hunched over his knees, his breath coming in short, heavy pants. "Bloody hell," he groaned, pushing his hair back off his face to cover the quick swipe of his hand against his brow to clear away the gathering sweat.

A large shadow fell over him. He glanced up to find Coach Mansfield standing there, hands planted on his hips, face blank of any expression. Ron straightened uncomfortably. He ran an observant eye over Ron, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "These aren't your clothes, are they, son?"

"No, sir," Ron panted. He anchored his hands at his hips, his chest still heaving from the effort to pull in air.

"Make sure you have your own boots and your own clothes tomorrow." Mansfield turned to join his team, who had gathered at centre field.

"What?" Ron started with surprise.

Mansfield turned around with an annoyed expression on his intimidating face. "What are you still doing standing here? Go and join your teammates for practice."

Ron stood there a moment unable to move. "You mean… I made the team?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" He jabbed his finger firmly toward the mass of bodies. "Go and join your team."

"Yes sir." The redhead snapped into motion, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.