Despite putting all of her not inconsiderable talents to the task and despite directing every ounce of her immense intellectual abilities to finding a way to put a stop to the day's events, somehow Dr. Temperance Brennan found herself sitting amid a loud, boisterous crowd on a bench near the top of the seats ringing the Quidditch pitch on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.
On another day her attention might have been caught by the sprawling, turreted old castle standing high on a hill overlooking the pitch. She might have finagled an invitation to explore every ancient corridor and allowed herself hours . . . perhaps days . . . to study the architectural details and statuary and masonry techniques that kept it standing tall and strong and sturdy despite its very obvious age. She might have carefully inspected the newer portions, the repairs done to the damage it sustained twenty years earlier.
But not today. Today she was watching a game she hadn't known existed being played by members of a group of people she hadn't believed were real. Witches. Wizards. Magic. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, the scene differed only in the constantly changing position of the players flying through the air on brooms . . . flying through the air on brooms!. . . She looked discretely around at the happy, cheering spectators surrounding her. No one else seemed particularly worried. No one else appeared to have a stomach at once churning with anxiety and knotted with fear. Well, maybe one person, she amended silently when she noticed Hermione's hands gripped together tightly in her lap. At least her husband was in no real danger. But Booth . . .
She chanced a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. He was clapping and cheering and treating all of this as if it were a harmless little game of lawn bowling. As if he were invincible, as if getting hurt, seriously hurt, wasn't a real possibility. She remembered his excitement last night as he'd described flying with Bill, moving so fast through the air, switching directions in an instant. He'd raved over the excitement, the thrill of being in the air like that and none of the numerous rational, well-rehearsed arguments she'd made in an effort to change his mind had any effect. He'd worn the same expression their sons had last Christmas when Jack had given all of the kids miniature go-carts – right before Simon and Henry steered theirs directly at each other and crashed spectacularly. Simon had needed six stitches to close up the gash on his head and Henry had sprained his wrist.
He'd tried to quell her fears. He described the brooms they were borrowing, how they were special models designed for more than one person, even though that usually meant a parent and child. He tried to describe the charm George had mentioned that would keep the two riders loosely connected without someone having to physically hold on to the other. He mentioned the half-dozen or so wizards who had volunteered to patrol the pitch, their focus on him so that if despite all precautions he did fall off the broom, they could quickly step in and stop him from smashing into the earth. Not that he was going to fall off, he reassured her.
Of course not, she thought. Once again, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She opened them and stared down at a lawn of such vivid green she knew she must be in Scotland. Scotland. She refused to think about the fact that she'd woken up in a hotel in the heart of London and yet now, without having seen a car or a train or a plane, she was in Scotland.
On the other side of Booth, sitting between him and Ron, Hermione tried again. She began a continuing, hissing commentary that both men simply ignored or talked over. Finally Ginny, seated one row below them, turned around.
"Give it a rest, Hermione," she said irritably. "If you haven't managed to talk them out of it already you certainly won't now. Drop it." Pouting a bit, Hermione sat back with a huff.
Brennan continued to watch with mute fascination the Quidditch match being played by the Hogwarts students. Seeing the Weasley clan playing a modified version with the tips of their toes almost skirting the grass had been one thing but watching these children . . . Children! she thought in horror. Harry's son isn't more than fourteen and. . . she cringed as a bludger shot in his direction thudded into his shoulder, sending him spinning on his broom and allowing the quaffle to sail untouched through the hoop he guarded. The students around them robed in maroon and gold groaned sympathetically while loud cheers rose from those supporting the team garbed in blue.
"Shake it off, James!" Harry called out. "Back up to the hoops!"
Booth clapped enthusiastically. "Rub some dirt on it, kid! It'll be fine!" he yelled, whistling loudly. "What?" he shrugged, responding to the perplexed look Ron sent his way.
The action was almost too fast to follow, her head swiveling back and forth as Brennan tried to keep up with the players whipping through the air on brooms. And then, suddenly, it was over, the players landing on the grass, the team in blue screaming and cheering with excitement as they hoisted a young girl high on their shoulders. She held one closed fist in the air and waved it around happily. In the group around Brennan and Booth, shoulders dropped and disappointed groans filled the air.
"There goes the House Cup for another year," Harry shook his head.
"Well," Ginny said, her tone dismayed, "at least it's not Slytherin."
"I'm sure Malfoy will have a few gloating words to say anyway," Ron muttered. "And the bleeding git's on my team."
As the students below cleared off the field a palpable hum of excitement swept through the stands. Several heads turned to look up at them, whispering behind their hands.
"Right, then." Harry rubbed the palms of his hands on his knees and stood up. "Time for us to head down." He stole a kiss from Ginny. "Wish me luck?"
She cupped his cheek and kissed him again. "When have you ever needed luck to catch the snitch?"
Ron stood and cast a hang-dog look at Hermione. "Oh, stop it," she groused, grabbing the front of his robes and pulling him toward her. "Don't get the Muggle killed," she murmured against his lips.
Booth and Brennan watched the gentle displays of marital affection in silence before Booth stood and with a broad grin, grabbed Brennan's hand. "Come 'ere," he growled as he pulled her into a passionate embrace.
She kissed him back with equal intensity and when their lips finally, reluctantly, separated held his eyes with hers. "You will be careful." She laid one hand softly against his face.
"Always," he answered, his voice quiet, his gaze focused on her.
"I am not happy about this," she added.
"I know, baby." He stole another quick kiss. "But I promise you I'll be fine."
"You can't know that, Booth," she said, giving it one last effort. "There are too many variables in play, so many different elements to this game that predicting an outcome with any degree of reasonable certainty is impossible."
"So you'll just have to trust me," he responded, smiling when she huffed and rolled her eyes, tucking a windblown strand of her hair behind one ear.
"Think they know we're still here?" Ron leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear, earning an elbow in his side for his trouble.
"We're good?" Booth addressed Brennan, ignoring Ron's remark.
Worry still evident in her expression Brennan nonetheless nodded. "Yes. I have no recourse but to trust that when this game is over, you will still be among the living."
"Thrilling vote of confidence, that," Ron murmured.
Hermione glared at him. "Ronald!"
After pressing one last kiss on Brennan's forehead, Booth punched Ron on the shoulder. "Keep it up, ginger. It just makes me want to kick your ass all the more," he said as they made their way through the crowded aisle to the stairs.
Next to Ginny one row below, Arthur stood up to follow them. He paused and held out a hand to Brennan. "We'll do our best to make sure your young man stays hale and hearty, Dr. Brennan."
She grabbed his hand as if it were a lifeline offered a castaway, happy that he would be on the field, looking out for Booth. Despite his sometimes childlike enthusiasm for everything related to the non-magical world, there was a solid core of dependability and responsibility readily apparent in his manner. "Thank you, Arthur."
Hermione filled the empty space left by the men and scooted closer to Brennan. "I'm sure we're worried about nothing," she said, nodding her head repeatedly.
"No, I have several valid reasons for my apprehension," Brennan disagreed. "First, this game itself is very dangerous. Second . . ."
Ginny looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Hermione was just using a figure of speech, Dr. Brennan."
"Oh, yes. Of course." Brennan glanced at the woman beside her. Hermione smiled faintly and reached out to grasp her hand.
Several long minutes later there was movement below as two groups walked out onto the field. Applause and cheers filled the air as waves of people in the overcrowded stands jumped to their feet.
Brennan stared down at the group, despite the distance easily able to pick out Booth, laughing at something George had just said close to his ear. His group wore long black robes, the white stripes over the shoulders matching the large white letter "M" emblazoned on the back. The other side wore the same in reverse, with a large black letter "W" adorning the dazzling white of their robes. As if he felt her gaze Booth looked up and unerringly caught her eye. She saw his broad smile as he raised his fist in a wave of triumph. In spite of her worry, she felt an answering smile lift the corners of her lips. He did look good in those long sweeping coats, she thought as she shook her head but lifted her hand and waved back.
"Welcome Quidditch fans!" A voice suddenly boomed through the stands and along with everyone else, Brennan craned her neck as she searched over the heads of the crowd until she caught a glimpse of the young man she remembered as the driving force behind the show the match had become. "Welcome to the world's first Muggle vs. Wizard Quidditch match!" Another loud roar echoed through the air.
"Playing for the Wizards Team . . . Argus Wood, Keeper!" A stocky young man with golden hair stepped forward and raised his broom. The applause lowered only slightly in volume as each player stepped forward on hearing their name called.
"The Beaters . . . Dylard Ogg and Freddie Weasley!"
"The Chasers . . . Lucretia Pucey and Ron Weasley!"
"The Seeker . . . Draco Malfoy!"
"And now . . . for the Muggle Team . . . James Potter, Keeper!"
"The Beaters . . . Bertie King and Elliott Chang!"
"The Chasers . . . Kenneth Towers and the Muggle, Seeley Booth!"
"The Seeker . . . Harry Potter!"
"Now, now," Brennan saw Lee stand up and wave his hand in a gesture meant to quiet the crowd. "Because we have a Muggle playing, the rules have been changed a bit. Listen up." There was a rustle as voices softened and those who had been standing sat down. "First of all, it's all thanks to Ron and the Muggle Booth that we're having all this fun." The audience obligingly cheered and clapped. "Because the Muggle can't ride a broom on his own, he'll be riding with Bill Weasley!" More applause as Bill stepped forward and waved. "And since it's only fair that Ron have the same handicap, he'll be riding with George Weasley!"
"Notice the double brooms that Ron and Booth are using, folks. They're being donated for today's fun by Dusty Brooms in Diagon Alley. They're perfect when you want to travel but your little ones are afraid of apparition. So remember . . . if you need to zoom, shop at Dusty Brooms!"
A faint rustle of parchment could be heard when Lee paused. "The match is also being sponsored by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Today only, ten percent off all purchases in the Hogsmeade shop! Just remember, all products are used at the buyer's own risk!"
"All players have agreed to play by the modified rules for today's game. A few wizards will be roaming the pitch below, just in case the Muggle falls off. We don't want anyone really hurt, now do we? And now . . . who's ready for some Quidditch?"
The screams and cheers from the crowd vibrated the very stands. Brennan held her breath as Lee called out, "Players - in the air!" Her teeth clenched together so hard her jaw felt wired shut as Booth, in place in front of Bill, zoomed up. Her eyes closed briefly when she heard his distinctive laugh drift on the wind.
"Release the snitch!" Arthur flipped open the lid of the small trunk he stood beside. The ball of gold streaked away.
"Release the bludgers!" Warily, Arthur stepped back and pointed his wand toward the trunk; with a sharp, jabbing movement the restraints fell back and the two dark balls shot skyward.
"And now….quaffle in play!" Arthur picked up the large red ball and, with a bit of magical help, threw it high into the air.
"And we're off!" Lee yelled jubilantly. "Tower grabs the quaffle first for the Muggle team and races toward the Wizard hoops . . .oh! Too bad, that hit, but what a bludger by Freddie Weasley! Don't let that dark hair fool you, folks! That boy is all Weasley when it comes to Quidditch!"
"Nice catch by Pucey . . . she's got the quaffle and . . . wow is she fast, she's already at the hoops and . . . awww, Potter misses the save and the Wizards score first!"
"Come on, James!" Ginny cupped her hands in front of her mouth and yelled.
"Oh, looks like Draco has seen the snitch! Harry's speeding to catch up . . . no, it's a feint. Now, now, kids, no fighting in mid-air. Of course, Draco's never beaten Harry in Quidditch so . . . hey! That was rude!"
"The Muggle is racing to catch the quaffle . . . well, Bill is the one actually . . . never mind, you know what I mean . . . they're headed straight for the ground, if they don't pull up soon they'll crash . . . Oh! That was close!"
Brennan pulled her trembling fingers away from her eyes and released her pent-up breath at the sight of Booth's broom still safely airborne. She gasped as a flash of gold buzzed in front of her, and then jerked back when Harry and Draco suddenly sped by. "What . . ."
Lee was in raptures. "Wow, did you see that? The Muggle snatched up the quaffle right before it hit the ground! Somebody check his hands for an Everstick Charm! He's headed to the hoops . . . nice bit of dodging the bludger there, Bill! Wood is circling . . . waiting . . . Ouch! Wood caught the quaffle but dropped it through the hoop behind him! And the score is tied!"
"He scored!" Ginny laughed up at Brennan. "Your husband, he scored! That's good, come on, cheer for him!" she encouraged.
Brennan nodded and clapped her hands together feebly, her eyes tracking Booth as he and Bill sped through the air chasing the red ball being passed between two players in white. She saw Bill lean forward to speak in his ear and then Booth's nod right before they . . .
"The Crosby Split!" Lee jumped up in his excitement. "Did you see that? The Muggle, well, Bill . . . whatever, they did the Crosby Split and stole the quaffle! Now the Muggle looks like he's . . . no, he can't throw the quaffle from there, it will never . . . HE SCORED! WHAT A THROW! Someone call England, that Muggle has an arm on him!"
The cheers from the stands were deafening. Someone behind her patted Brennan heartily on the shoulder, congratulating her for Booth's score.
"Uh oh, here come Ron and George . . . oooh, they're sent off course by a well-placed bludger from Chang. Here they come again . . . Pucey has the quaffle . . . ouch! She's hit in the leg by a bludger from King . . . Ron has the quaffle, here he comes . . . And his throw is blocked by Potter! Muggles still ahead . . ."
Brennan relaxed by inches as the match progressed and Booth managed to stay on the broom. Judging by his expression he was having the time of his life as he and Bill chased the red ball through the air, tossing it back and forth between another player in black. Occasionally she took her eyes off him and watched Harry and Draco flying even higher above the stadium. The two men didn't seem to like each other, she thought, watching them elbow each other or kick out to knock the other off course.
She had no idea what the score was, no idea who was winning and it was impossible to tell by the vocal response of the audience seated around her. They seemed to cheer every time the red ball sailed through a hoop, no matter which end of the pitch it occurred. They seemed even happier when one of the other balls . . . what were they called? Oh, yes, bludgers, she remembered. The audience certainly seemed to enjoy seeing a player bludgeoned by a bludger. She smiled faintly and promised herself to remember to share that play on words with Booth.
The random flash of gold was back, buzzing in her line of sight. Irritated, she waved a hand in front of her and crooked her head to follow Booth as he flew through the air. He had the quaffle under his arm and was headed toward the hoops when a bludger hit the back of his broom, sending it spinning and surprising him into releasing the red ball. With a whoop she heard all the way up here, Ron and George raced over, snatched the quaffle up before it hit the ground and then sent it sailing through their own hoop before Bill could get his broom back under control. Whatever comment Booth yelled at Ron had the red-haired man laughing and responding with a rude gesture as he and George sped away.
A blur of black and white filled her vision as Harry and Draco chased each other, flashing in front of the stands. Brennan shook her head at their speed. They're not even wearing helmets! she though. That's so dangerous . . .
She was watching the seekers chase each other when the glint of gold fluttered above her again. It buzzed in place, hanging directly in front of her, sunlight sending sparks dancing from its surface. "What is that?" she wondered, irritated. Without thinking, her reflexes honed by years of martial arts training, she reached out and grabbed it.
The entire stadium seemed to freeze. Ginny gasped and turned around, eyes wide. Beside her, one hand covering her mouth, Hermione stared at the small golden ball resting quietly in Brennan's outstretched palm.
Brennan examined it curiously. Fragile wings fluttered then curled back into the golden orb as it set there, motionless.
It took a moment before she noticed the silence around her and looked up into Hermione's dumbfounded gaze. "What happened?" she asked. "Why are you staring at me?" She cast a look around. "Why is everyone staring at me?"
Hermione's hand moved slowly away from her lips.
"You caught the snitch."
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Bet you didn't see that coming. :-D