POV: MONIKA.
"Aw'right lads, lissen up!"
Flint's booming voice bellowed throughout the changing room, calling for our attention.
"A boring-ass leader might tell ya 'good luck out there! Give yer all, and just try yer best!' or some inspirational crap like that!"
A wide, mocking grin spread across his rectangular head, flashing a row of crooked, tombstone-like teeth.
"But the truth is, we don't even need to try our best!" He thundered on, raising a triumphant arm clutching a pristine, tar-black broomstick. "With these babies, we could fall asleep in the air and probably stillbeat those Mudbloods!"
I flinched where I stood, only partly due to the loud hooting suddenly erupting around me as my fellow teammates cheered. It was strange how a word I'd so often heard and even used myself nearly all my life was now making me react this way after just a few weeks of 're-education' in the library with Yuri and Sayori.
Not that it should have been surprising to me. I struggled to remember even one training session we've had where someone hadn't casually dropped the word to belittle our opponents.
Why am I here again? I found myself wondering silently. It was far from the first time I'd felt like a total outsider on the team.
"So yeah!" Flint anti-climactically finished his 'pep-talk' with an lazy shrug. "Only thing left to say? Try to not slaughter 'em too hard out there. Hooch might give 'em points outta sheer pity!"
There was another round of deafening applause from the team. I looked down at my sleek, dark Quidditch boots, trying to resist an unbearable urge to speak my mind. I knew no good would come of it. I knew no one here was interested in anything I had to say. I knew I'd be gambling my very spot on the team.
"Harry Potter's still a considerable threat…" I quietly told my shoes after the room had simmered down enough to make my voice audible. "We shouldn't be underestimating him."
The total silence left in the wake of my words was all-consuming. I was painfully aware that everyone in the room was staring at me now, though I refused to look back at any of them. I wondered briefly if Flint was going to yell at me for daring to suggest Gryffindor's players were anything else than complete trash.
It wouldn't be the first time.
"Oh, dear." Rather than Flint's thunderous roaring, it was a sly, drawling voice that finally broke the tension. "Don't tell me even Monika's caught the Potter-craze now? What a tragedy."
I broke off my downwards stare in order to scowl in Draco's direction, just as an exaggerated squeal of delight emerged from the dark-haired girl leaning up next to him on a bench. I still didn't know what business Pansy Parkinson had in our changing rooms considering she wasn't even a player, but it wasn't hard to figure out why she'd been allowed in.
The more her obvious fake laughter at Draco's quip continued assaulting my ears, the harder I felt my fists clenching up. Man, how satisfying would it be to plant one right in her stupid, brown-nosing face?
"His broom is still the fastest on their team, and his flying isn't half bad either." I settled on saying instead, injecting as much venom as I could muster into my voice. "I'm sure I don't need to remind anyone that if he catches the Snitch before you, Draco, we'll lose the match. Nimbus 2001, or not."
Pansy stopped her obnoxious laughter in order to fix me with a foul glare, which I readily returned in kind. My old friend had just started opening his mouth to retort when Flint's angry bear growl cut in.
"Enough." He sneered and approached me with bouldering steps. As my head only reached to the middle of his massive chest, he had to tilt his face at a down angle to properly look at me.
I suppressed a nervous gulp. Now I'd done it.
"This is your final warning to get off Malfoy's arse." He stated plainly, crossing his giant log arms. "It's starting to get really fucking annoying to listen to."
"…yes, Captain." I muttered quietly, bowing my reddening head. I was willing to bet I looked more pathetic than ever before, cowering before Flint like this, but it wasn't like I had any better or dignified alternatives.
"Remember, you have the easiest job of everyone out there." He continued. "So don't lecture us on how to play!"
Don't remind me. With these brooms, there's a chance Gryffindor won't even get their hands on the Quaffle at all…
"Yes, Captain." I said automatically, doing my best to ignore the muted snickering around the room at my expense. "Sorry, Captain."
Seemingly satisfied, Flint stomped away from me again. I breathed a sigh of relief and, because I apparently hated myself, tilted my head sideways to catch a glimpse of Pansy jeering my way, her expression unbearably smug.
Then, a bit quieter this time as if he'd just had an afterthought, Flint spoke again.
"You are gonna catch the Snitch before Potter though, right?"
"Obviously." Draco's scoff was impatient and overbearing, as if the question itself was so ridiculous he couldn't believe it had even been asked.
"Good." Flint nodded shortly and surveyed his team with one last glare that felt like an unspoken, threatening reminder of what he'd do to us if we failed him today. I couldn't help but notice his gaze lingering on me just a second longer than anyone else. "Now let's show those weaklings what happens when you step to Slytherin!"
"Yeah!" Cheered the crowd and lined up behind him. Swallowing a sigh, I grabbed my broom and joined at the very end, behind Draco just as Pansy leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. When she retracted her head, she looked mirthfully at me before bursting into a fit of giggles and sprinting out of the room.
I raised an eyebrow as I glanced after her, before shaking my head. I still had no idea what that girl's deal was, but I'd long since given up asking. It was high time I got my head in the game.
We stepped outside the Changing Room, onto the Pitch. The weather was about what you could expect this far into November- dreary, grey and judging by those clouds in the sky, with a high chance of rain. Not terribly cold though, and certainly nothing I couldn't deal with.
The stadium surrounding us was filled to the brim with eager students, all blended together into one giant mass buzzing with excitement for the game. I could remember it wasn't that long ago I'd been one of them, sitting on the elevated benches with Sayori, explaining the rules of the game to her all the while wishing it was me out on the field.
I should have been ecstatic, over the moon. How many times had I fantasized about being here, side by side with my team in tune to the roaring cheers of the crowd, finally part of a real tournament with real players and real rewards? This was everything I'd ever wanted!
So why did it all feel so… hollow?
I shouldn't be here. I don't deserve this.
We trudged along the soggy grass, getting closer to the Gryffindor team and Madam Hooch who were meeting us at the halfway point. I could hear the roaring cheers behind me, as the Slytherin section of the stadium voiced their support, which admittedly did help raise my confidence a smidge. Too bad it was almost completely drowned out by all the booing jeers from literally every other direction.
It would seem all of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had banded together in their support for Gryffindor. Again.
What a surprise.
I watched passively from afar as Madam Hooch instructed Flint to shake hands with the Gryffindor team Captain, Oliver Wood, who very nearly managed not to pull a face as his fingers were crushed. I wondered a bit whether I would pull something like that if I ever became Captain. It just didn't seem very necessary or sportsmanlike to injure the opposing team like that just before the match started, but… I mean, everyone did it. Would I really have the spirit to break off such a Quidditch tradition staple?
My speculation ended abruptly when a depressing realization brought me crashing down to reality. It didn't matter if I would play childish pranks on my opponent, since I wouldn't even be Captain in the first place. No, that position would in all likelihood go to Draco, since he'd already proven you didn't need actual skills to succeed- just a dad with deep enough pockets.
And though I was still unsure if I would intentionally squeeze a competitor's fingers just for the hell of it, I did know one thing for absolute certain: I wouldn't ever stoop to that kind of level.
Madam Hooch called out for us to mount our brooms and get ready. I did so, grabbing the sleek, shiny shaft of my Nimbus 2001 with both hands. It still felt so awkward flying this thing that'd been carved and mass-produced to as broad of a market as possible when I preferred having my things made to fit me, specifically. There weren't a whole lot of customizable features on a Nimbus, and even if there were, I was sure Flint would have insisted we all used the exact same to ensure nobody would bring down the rest of the team.
It was fast, I'd give it that. Fast enough for a bloke to circle the entire pitch before you could count to twenty. But it was sorely lacking in the personality department.
Man, I miss my Zipper…
Then Madam Hooch blew her whistle, magically enhanced to make its high-pitched bleeting heard all around the stadium. Around me, the members of both teams immediately took to the sky, kicking themselves off from the ground like whizzing red and green firework rockets.
The match had started.
Sparing one final look of sympathy at some of the Gryffindor stragglers whose slower brooms took a bit longer to start up and get moving, I eventually threw my head back, distributed all my weight evenly along the shaft as both my feet left the ground…
…and felt my mouth split into a wide grin as I suddenly recalled the reason I hadn't left the team.
Oh, right. I LOVE this game!
All of my pent-up frustration swiftly left my body as I soared upwards and felt the wind against my face, caressing me, grabbing hold of my ponytail and billowing it behind me like a long, light brown streamer.
I found that I couldn't quite remember what I'd been so upset about just a few moments before. The estrangement I felt with my friends and my House, the way I'd caused the Literature Club to collapse, Natsuki's refusal to even acknowledge me, and all this new business with the Chamber of Secrets- those were all concerns exclusive to the ground and the people on it, quite literally beneath me now.
So what if my team didn't respect me? Who cared if I had to use a broom I didn't fully agree with? I was airborne again, in my element, and about to play the greatest game ever invented. That's all that mattered, and I was all there for it! Time to get started!
My newfound joy lasted for maybe all of five seconds before I reached the thirty feet-point and was met with the three metal goal-hoops connected to the tall rods erected from the ground.
My spirit crumbled away like a dry leaf when I came down from my high and remembered the far extent of my role in this game; drifting between these loathsome things all match long and prevent anything from passing through them.
Fun, fun, fun…
"AND THE MATCH HAS BEGUN!" The magically magnified voice of Gryffindor's Lee Jordan hollered across the entire stadium. The apparent enthusiasm that Hogwarts' resident commentator held for the game at hand was in such stark contrast to my own that it managed to momentarily throw me off. "LOOKING AT THE LINEUPS, WE OF COURSE HAVE WOOD'S TEAM OF THE OLD HANDPICKED FAVORITES WHO MORE THAN PROVED THEIR WORTH DURING LAST YEAR'S MATCHES! ALWAYS NICE TO SEE ANGELINA JOHNSON ON THE FIELD, THOUGH IT WOULD BE EVEN NICER TO SEE HER FINALLY AGREE TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME…!"
As the crowd cheered, I watched the fiercest and tallest of the Gryffindor Chasers smile coyly whilst making a very rude hand gesture in the direction of the commentator booth. Undeterred by the brutal rejection, Jordan went on.
"AND THEN ON THE OPPOSING TEAM WE HAVE TWO VERY INTERESTING NEW CHOICES WITH THE SECOND-YEARS DRACO MALFOY AND MONIKA WINTHER! THAT'S RIGHT FOLKS, LOOKS LIKE AN ACTUAL GIRL FINALLY MADE IT ONTO THE SLYTHERIN QUIDDITCH TEAM! FLINT MUST'VE REALIZED HOW CLOSE WE'RE GETTING TO THE 21ST CENTURY, GOOD ON HIM!"
I scoffed lightly at the jab, equal parts annoyed and amused at the same time. While it could be a bit grinding at times to listen to Lee's commentary tracks with the obvious biases he rarely even tried to hide (especially when his own House was playing) I couldn't fly here and pretend it wasn't satisfying to hear my name announced to a crowd like this.
Then, when every player had gotten into position, Hooch blew her whistle again and launched a large, red ball far into the sky.
"AND THE QUAFFLE IS IN THE AIR, WITH FLINT AND JOHNSON BOTH GOING FOR IT- BLIMEY, WHAT A FAST CAPTURE FROM FLINT- HE'S ZOOMING TOWARDS THE GOALPOSTS WITH WOOD AT THE READ- UGH, REALLY?!"
Even I had to wince at Flint's uncontested score. Oliver Wood hadn't stood a chance against our Captain's rush tactic, he might as well have been moving in slow motion. In fact, that did seem to be the case for almost every single one of the red-clad players as none of them could do anything to stop Adrian Pucey from bursting ahead and snatch up the Quaffle again after it'd passed through the ring. Only an expertly aimed Bludger from one of the Weasley twins prevented Pucey from just rounding right back and scoring another goal- although even the speed of the black metal ball seemed disturbingly slow-paced compared to his Nimbus 2001.
The Slytherin crowd gave a roaring cheer which was reciprocated from all my team members- except me. I could only watch with a light frown of dismay as the Gryffindors tried in vain to catch up to Pucey who outsped them all with little effort and passed the ball to Flint who'd already lined up for another rush.
This match was already proving to be exactly as unfair as I'd thought it'd be. What about it was worth celebrating?
I felt small droplets gently pattering against my face as it started to rain. As if the weather itself wanted to reflect my increasingly dour mood.
Since it didn't look like my team would be in need of my services in the immediate future, I let my gaze wander from the brutal massacre before me and onto the crowd beneath instead. The sight was no less disheartening.
Seeing things from this high up really put things into perspective. I'd already known the two other Houses had joined forces with Gryffindor, but it was only upon peering down at the overwhelming sea of red and gold across all but one of the massive podiums that I got a true sense of scale for just how few supporters we really had. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw as one, all clad in the same scarlet scarves, hats and robes, all of them groaning in loud disappointment as Lee announced we'd scored yet another goal before it'd even been five minutes.
It strongly reminded me of something Natsuki had said to me offhandedly last year, a bit I'd initially dismissed as just a lighthearted jab, but now seemed to ring devastatingly real and true.
"That's the great thing about playing against the most HATED House at Hogwarts, right? Everyone else is automatically on our side in these events!"
She'd been right, hadn't she? Everyone really did hate us. And after all the horrible things I'd read about in Yuri's history book, the frankly sickening actions taken against Muggles and their children for generations… well, we'd certainly earned their scorn.
My insides tightened uncomfortably at the thought of Natsuki. How was I ever going to regain her friendship? What could I possibly do to make things right with her again?
But my spiraling thoughts were sent for a loop when I suddenly caught something unexpected in the crowds below. It was so small I almost missed it completely in my sweeping glance, just an odd little thing that kinda stuck out in my periphery, but all the years I'd spent playing as Seeker hadn't been completely wasted. I did a double take and focused in on the spot that was now glaring out at me like a sore thumb.
There, a bit off to the side of the Hufflepuff podium, almost completely buried stood a single, solitary green flag, waving defiantly among all the red. I blinked in disbelief before squinting against the mildly intensifying downpour of rain, concentrating hard on making out whoever was going against the grain.
It didn't take long for me to spot her. Because of course it was her, I should have seen this coming a mile away. How could it possibly have been anyone else?
Even from this distance I could see Sayori's bright, blue eyes beaming at me as she feverishly waved her Slytherin-adorned flag back and forth, completely oblivious to all the weird looks she was attracting from the rest of the surrounding crowd. I could see from the way her mouth was moving that she was yelling and hooting something at the top of her lungs which was lost to the crowd, but the sentiment rang clear as crystal- she was supporting me.
And that wasn't all. As my heart bumped harder in my chest I spotted another girl right next to Sayori, sitting absolutely still in her seat which should have made her harder for me to spot if it hadn't been for the easily recognizable mane of purple hair going down her head. While Yuri didn't seem quite as comfortable with the intense crowd as the Vice President, she was still exerting enough effort to look up in my direction with a hesitant, but nevertheless encouraging smile.
It was a small gesture on the surface, but one that warmed my heart completely. I knew how Yuri felt about Quidditch (a viewpoint I'd never be able to understand) so the fact that she'd somehow been convinced to show up to a match meant about a thousand times more to me than it otherwise would have. After all the things I'd put them through, everything I'd said, and they'd still found it within themselves to go all the way up here just to see me play!
A hopeful, but dumb part of me searched the seats around them for just the faintest hint of pink as well, but of course, without any such luck.
That really shouldn't have come as much of a surprise- if she for some reason had shown up despite hating the game and me, she most certainly wouldn't be caught dead under Sayori's flag, and I definitely wouldn't be able to find her anywhere else. Even with hair as vibrant as hers, spotting someone that small in this crowd would be next to impossible.
I should have expected it, but it still managed to hurt. Especially as I noticed the conspicuously empty seat on Yuri's side that seemed to almost emphasize her absence.
But all that didn't detract much from how genuinely wonderful it was to see Sayori and Yuri side by side, keenly watching even though my role in the game was as minimal and boring as this. I waved at them gratefully and, as a show of my appreciation, tilted my body backwards to do a loop-de-loop in the air.
"Playing it up for the crowd, are we?"
Draco's dry voice pulled me back to reality like a bucket of ice water thrown in my face. And in this weather, that was saying something.
I reluctantly turned to see him gently steering his Nimbus besides me, a self-satisfied smirk on his face which seemed wholly unbothered by the water streaming down it.
It was a very unwelcome sight.
"Don't you have a Snitch to find?" My voice was blunt, but the question was genuine. He really had no business being here, except to-
"Oh, Monika…" He tutted admonishingly, confirming my suspicion with a lofty chuckle. "You really wanted to be the Seeker, didn't you?"
I didn't respond, knowing anything I'd say would be dismissed as more petty jealousy.
But of course. Can't get through one match without gloating, can you?
"Ah, I really should have seen this coming…" He sighed dramatically and came dangerously close to being within punching distance. "You always had a hard time accepting defeat."
"That's funny, how would you know?" I retorted, turning my broom away to cover the far left ring. Not because it was in any danger of being targeted, I just wanted to get away from him. "Not like you've ever managed to beat me at anything."
"Don't be so sour, it's not a good look for you." He had the gall to chastise me as he drifted ever closer, tsk'ing at me. "It's such a shame you've never seemed to understand this about the school. I've tried explaining it to you since day one, but apparently it bears repeating. Hogwarts is about status and respect, nothing else. And there's nothing more respected than being Seeker. So you see, I had to get the position!"
I didn't reply, too afraid I was going to spit into his face or something equally impulsive if I opened my mouth. Was this really the same Draco I'd known and played with since we were kids? What had changed him? He'd always been patronizing, sure, but I couldn't remember him ever being this much of a prick.
I had to suppress a shudder as a terrifying thought struck me.
Maybe I only see him this way because my friends have pointed out the behaviour to me, it suggested. Maybe I just didn't notice because I was a prick myself.
"Come on, Monika." He continued nagging, finally flying right in front of my face to force me to look at him. "Can't you just be happy on my behalf?"
I looked into his cold, silver eyes, the brows above them raised smarmily. It was such a transparent and hollow expression that told me everything I needed to know about his true intentions.
He didn't care if I gave him my blessing or not. The only reason he'd flown over here was to humiliate me even further.
No way was I going to give him that satisfaction.
"Hey, so long as you catch the Snitch before Potter and win us the match, I'll be happy as anyone!" I shrugged casually. "And you pretty much have to now, don't you? I mean, if he managed to beat you because you were too busy gloating to a Keeper like me, it'd look reaaally bad, wouldn't it?"
His relaxed smile flickered for a fraction of a second before reappearing again full force.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that." He returned my shrug. "In case you haven't noticed already, it would seem Potter is a bit… pre-occupied, this match."
He dived away, finally leaving me with one last mirthful cackle. Frowning at this cryptic message, I began searching the rain-filled skies around me for the Gryffindor Seeker, not keen on being left out of whatever it was Draco found so funny.
It wasn't hard to find him- as usual, The Boy Who Lived was making quite a spectacle of himself. What was difficult was figuring out just what exactly was going on around him.
While most Seekers usually flew solo away from everyone else to better do their job, it would seem Potter was going for an entirely different strategy. Wherever he went, both of the red-haired Gryffindor Beaters followed, attached closely to each of his sides like extra sticky Flobberworms.
My frown deepened in utter confusion. While this certainly made Potter the most protected member of either team, I couldn't imagine how being surrounded like that made locating the Snitch any easier for him, not to mention the extra exposure this put on the rest of Gryffindor.
But as I kept watching the bizarre display, I soon realized this so-called strategy wasn't being done to gain some advantage, but rather out of pure necessity as a medium-sized, black metal ball hurtled itself right towards Potter's head. A mighty WACK from the Beater on the right sent it on its way for about two seconds before the ball changed course in mid-air, and swirled back around to chase the trio.
No, not the trio- just Potter. I blinked in disbelief as I watched the exact same event repeat itself, the ball charging directly at Harry, getting knocked back by the left Beater this time, only to swivel around and relentlessly restart its pursuit.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Bludgers weren't supposed to target one player on the field, they were equal opportunity annoyances. For evidence I only had to point to the approaching Chaser, Angelina Johnson, who'd somehow managed to gain the Quaffle but had to forfeit her attempt at landing a goal in favor of dodging the second metal ball which whizzed up from directly below us, and then went after me.
I dodged it effortlessly, and it began chasing Adrian Pucey instead, but Potter wasn't quite so lucky. His Bludger was relentless, seemingly hell bent on not only knocking him off his broom, but maybe even take his head off too. Only thanks to the constant, feverish support from the Beaters did it remain unsuccessful in its endeavor.
It was all so weird and unheard of, I almost didn't catch Lee Jordan's announcement (his voice having gone a flat and depressed monotone) that we'd now managed to score six times in total. Who cared what was going on with the game when a rogue Bludger was actively trying to kill one of the players?!
Did someone tamper with the balls before the game started? Is that even possible?
I continued staring transfixed at the hypnotic display, before Madam Hooch's whistle sounded over the stadium, announcing a time-out. I found myself shocked it wasn't called much sooner in these conditions.
I leaned on my broom, directing it to float downwards along with everyone else. A brief glance over my shoulder showed me the problematic ball being detained in a conjured up metal cage, but it was clear it hadn't been pacified willingly- even now, it was hammering against the bars that stood between it and Harry Potter's head.
"What the hell is going on with that Bludger?!" The question blurted from my lips the moment my feet made contact with the damp ground among the rest of my team.
"Who cares?!" Flint bellowed loudly to uproarious laughter. "It's making us win!"
'Who cares,' indeed. I pursed my lips, realizing I was probably the only person in this group even remotely concerned with the mysterious Bludger. I really should have guessed as much sooner.
Uncomfortably, I turned around just in time to see Draco landing a few feet away. Like the rest of our team, his dripping face was positively beaming with a look of pure, unfiltered glee as he glared at the Gryffindors who had huddled together to discuss their options.
"Interesting match, wouldn't you say?" He drawled at me, giving a sly wink before joining our group in their mocking laughter. I looked after him, speechless.
His expression was so callous and without pity, that I couldn't help myself from finding it just a bit suspicious.
Surely he didn't…? I struggled to even complete the thought. I liked to think I knew Draco well enough to say for certain that he would never break the Quidditch rules. That bewitching a Bludger to target his rival was just too petty, even for him.
But recently, Draco had proved willing to do a lot of things I never would have thought of him. In fact, the only thing that really kept him in the clear was the sheer skill this stunt would have required. He would have had to not only break the sealing charm of the vault the balls were stored, but cast a highly complex tracking spell on one of the Bludgers as well. Magic like that just seemed way beyond what my childhood friend was capable of.
That admittedly wasn't a very reassuring thought. You knew someone had a serious problem when the question turned from 'would he' to 'could he?' Still, for better or worse, it was the best alibi I could come up with.
I was appalled when the announcement came that Gryffindor was ready to continue the match, and all payers should return to their positions. It seemed completely absurd to allow a game to go on under these unsafe and frankly even life-threatening circumstances.
And I knew Madam Hooch fully agreed with me from the grim nod she gave when I snuck away from my team and voiced my concerns to her.
"My hands are tied." She sniffed in obvious dissatisfaction, aiming a thin-mouthed glare at the Bludger that was now being released from confinement. "According to the rules, matches cannot be called off until a Player is fully incapacitated by Bludger injury. Technically, it hasn't harmed Potter or anyone else yet."
She did give her word that she'd be keeping a close eye on it and would interfere the second it crossed a line, but I couldn't see how that was supposed to be reassuring when she had to wait for it to actually hit Potter first. It was the first time in my life where I thought the Quidditch rules were being somewhat unreasonable.
I shivered. The very idea of that was downright blasphemous.
And, as if the very universe itself thought the day needed just a bit more tension and misery, thunder was starting to rumble in the distance.
For about a quarter of a second I considered quitting the game in protest, but the thought of what Flint would do if I forfeited kept me from doing so. Between the two of them, I think I would have preferred the Bludger going after me.
Still, let it be known I was a very far cry from happy as I mounted my broom, flew up and resumed goalkeeping. For whatever my personal feelings on anything were worth anymore…
The match continued, and believe it or not, Gryffindor was actually stepping up to the challenge! Both of their Beaters were keeping away from Harry now to help their team, and you could definitely tell the improvement that had on their performance. They actually managed to block some of Flint's rushes now, and even got their hands on the Quaffle long enough to try scoring at me a few times.
But still… the speed-gap between our brooms was ultimately way too high to make a difference, and I only had to exert the absolute minimum effort to foil their attempts. I tried my best to look apologetic as I crushed Alicia Spinnet's hopes and dreams three times in a row, but for some reason she didn't look very understanding.
Whenever the Quaffle wasn't in our court, I caught my attention drifting towards Potter and the fascinating maneuvers he was pulling in the air. Now that the Beaters had left him, he had to rely solely on his own skills to avoid the Bludger that kept speeding after him while searching for the Snitch at the same time, and honestly… he was pulling it off!
The boy was zig-zagging around the air, spinning his broom in spectacular dives that stopped just a hair-pin away from the ground, always managing to pull away whenever the Bludger got too close for comfort. I could tell his escapes were getting narrower and increasingly desperate, but that didn't make them any less impressive to watch.
I could remember last year and the doubts I had when I heard he'd landed Seeker position. At such a young age, I'd genuinely thought it'd just been a publicity stunt to get a famous name on their team, with no regard for talent. But looking at him now, it was so clear he deserved the spot. He was doing things on that broom that even I would have trouble pulling off. Almost like he was born to play Quidditch.
How on earth did he get that good when he was raised by Muggles? I wondered as I watched him avoid certain doom again, baiting the Bludger to almost hit one of our guys by diving under him. It was such a well played move, I couldn't even be mad at him for it.
Blimey, I'd love to play against him in a FAIR match…
I shook my head, reminding myself which team I was on again. If Flint knew Legilimency, (Merlin forbid) I was sure he wouldn't appreciate such thoughts of admiration from me. Well, to be honest, he probably wouldn't appreciate any thoughts that didn't extend to "Me, Keeper! Me protect goals! Me keep faaar out of strong boys' way!"
"OH WOW. LOOK AT THAT. ANGELINA GOT THE QUAFFLE AGAIN." Came Lee Jordan's unenthused voice. "SHE PASSES TO ALICIA. ALICIA AVOIDS PUCEY, PASSES BACK TO ANGELINA. MAYBE THEY'LL BE ABLE TO SCORE THIS TIME…?"
His rhetorical question came out more as a depressed prayer than anything else, and I had to raise a skeptical eyebrow as I watched the two girls fly towards me at a horrendously slow pace, continually passing the big red ball between each other as they stared ahead at me, as if hoping to 'psyche me out,' somehow.
I supposed they deserved respect for staying determined in this farce of a Quidditch match but at the same time it was hard not to feel an awful sense of second-hand embarrassment at the attempt. I hoped they wouldn't hate me too much when I'd inevitably have to shut them down…
As they came closer, so too did Potter. Entering my air-space a few feet below me, he was closely followed by his eternal companion, the faulty Bludger. As I kept tabs on the approaching Chasers, I made sure to include him in my periphery, just to make sure I wouldn't be caught in the crossfire and fumble when it counted.
No matter how trivial a task it seemed to keep Gryffindor from scoring, I knew I couldn't get complacent. If I slipped up even the slightest bit in this match, Flint would be first to let me know.
Not to mention that Hermione would hate me if I took it easy on them… I remembered her mock threat idly, and smirked weakly in the pouring rain.
Below me, Potter was spinning around madly, taking advantage of the Bludger's inflexible maneuverability when it came to sudden turns. The ball blundered about ten feet off course, giving the Seeker a few seconds to breathe and recover. As the Bludger slowed to a crawl in order to shift directions, it almost looked like it'd been made dizzy by Potter's impromptu pirouette.
"Training for the ballet, Potter?!"
The sound of Draco's loudmouthed jeer distracted me just enough to look around and find him floating still in the air just a few meters away, his eyes fixed with malice on Potter's misfortunes.
I would have scoffed and maybe rolled my eyes at this- Draco's immature grudge against Potter was just getting sad to watch at this point- but instead, my jaw dropped open and I had to do an actual double-take.
At first, I thought it was nothing more than a trick of the light, perhaps some very reflective raindrop, but there was no mistaking it. A small, round and glinting object, out in the open, fully exposed as it zipped around on its tiny silver wings- the golden Snitch.
And it was just a hand's reach away from Draco's pale face.
I couldn't believe how close it was to him. If he so much as slicked his wet, oily hair back, I was sure his knuckles would scrape against its golden bottom. It was practically begging to be caught!
And yet Draco remained completely oblivious, too busy making faces at Harry fucking Potter to notice the thing capable of winning us the match right next to him!
Speaking of Potter, even he was staring in stunned befuddlement at the scene. Having clearly noticed the Snitch as well, he remained frozen in the air, probably trying like me to work out how anyone could possibly be this daft!
My body boiled hot with frustration like molten lava, and for a moment I was tempted to just up and abandon my role, dive down and catch the Snitch myself. Maybe that would finally convince Flint of how much better I would be as Seeker!
But no, that probably wouldn't work. There almost had to be some kind of rule against other people catching the Snitch, and while the look I imagined on Draco's face when I humiliated him was damn near irresistible, it just wasn't worth the risk of letting Gryffindor get a penalty. I would have to settle on the next best thing and shout something like "oi, idiot! look up!" at him instead.
But before I could even draw my breath, something happened that I'm confident threw every one of us for a loop. Even though Potter had only been distracted for maybe three seconds at most, it was long enough for the Bludger to make a harrowing comeback, hurtled itself back around and smashed directly against his arm.
A horrified gasp escaped my lips the same time as the Seeker cried out and crumbled on his broom. I wasn't completely sure if the sickening crack I'd heard on impact had been imaginary or not, but there was no ambiguity about the unnaturally bent, broken arm now dangling limply from his side.
All thoughts of helping Draco catch the Snitch evaporated as Potter started to plummet and spiral out of control. Unless someone went after him, he'd surely die! It would be absolute insanity to continue playing in his condition without immediate medical attention! I prepared myself to dive after him-
-and then I noticed the Gryffindor chasers having gotten dangerously close to my rings, their confident expressions suggesting they hadn't noticed their Seeker had been downed. Flint were coming up behind Angelina Johnson and tackled her a moment too late as she threw the Quaffle at her lifeline, Alicia Spinnet who caught it and continued onwards, and would undoubtedly score unless someone stopped her.
Just before he went down with Angelina, Flint scowled a wordless threat at me which could not be misinterpreted.
Conflicted, I debated inwardly for a split second before coming to a decision. I pulled my broom up again to face Alicia.
No. I realized, my pounding heart deafening everything around me. My role isn't to save Potter.
He'd be fine, I assured myself. Madam Hooch had promised to take care of him. I had a job to do now. Defend the rings, no matter what.
I narrowed my eyes, analyzing the oncoming Alicia's body language. The way she was swaying, darting between the left and right rings, so obviously trying to juke me out. Only I could tell from the way her eyes never left the middle ring which one she was really going for.
I remained stationary, preparing to burst upwards and block her throw at a moment's notice. She didn't stand a chance of course, her speed was still nothing compared to mine- something I wasn't happy about at all- but, though the conditions might've been wildly unfair, I still wasn't going to give any less than my all. Letting them score out of pity would be an insult not only to my own team, but them as well.
Alicia primed her body, gearing her arm up to throw. I rose gradually, ready to intercept it- and blinked in utter confusion when she proceeded to completely drop the ball both literally and figuratively. She'd blundered her shot, letting the Quaffle go off at such an off course, downwards angle that it almost seemed like she was deliberately trying to avoid any of the rings.
I stared at her, questioningly. Now, everyone was entitled to have bad throws sometimes. It sucked majorly, but those things happened to even the best of us. Even my heroine, Kursten Blijk of the German National Quidditch Team had messed up spectacularly on certain occasions, and that was okay. Naturally, I would never dream of mocking Alicia or holding this moment against her.
What was throwing me off about this particular bad throw though, was how pleased she looked with herself, looking back at me with a large, ear to ear grin. I felt as though I was missing something obvious, as though the shot she'd made had been completely intentional…
I whirled my neck as far back as I could, an uncomfortable sense of foreboding taking hold of me as I looked around, praying I was wrong. My stomach dropped the moment I spotted Gryffindor's third Chaser, Katie Bell, who'd somehow managed to lurk into my space without me noticing, on the opposite side of the rings. She was sporting a wide grin of her own as she effortlessly caught the Quaffle from Alicia.
They… double-juked me?!
The revelation was like ice in my veins. I looked on dumb-founded as Katie lined herself up with the totally unprotected ring on my left. The one I had absolutely no chance of reaching in time.
Here's the thing about the Nimbus Series. Despite my nagging about them, they really are tremendous brooms. Lighter than feathers, extra-ordinarily comfortable and with a greater speed than anything currently on the market- just a well-rounded, solid racing broom.
However, when it comes to precise maneuverability they can be a tad… disappointing. Usually, that doesn't matter at all since their sheer travel speed more than makes up for any lackluster turning ability, but in this particular situation, I probably couldn't have asked for a worse broom to have.
I could easily circle the entire pitch five times before Katie's Shooting Star could complete the first lap, but this wasn't a question of outracing her. She was already there, beneath me, in a direction I wasn't even facing. To make it down there, I'd have to turn myself around, descend, and get in front of the ring, something the Nimbus just wasn't designed for. It'd take five, maybe even six whole seconds, and it seemed she was going to score in less than two.
The irony didn't escape me that if I'd been allowed to use my own Zipper, this wouldn't even be a problem. I'd be able to zip down there in the blink of an eye and intercept her while upside down and both hands tied behind my back. But that wasn't the case here. I'd fallen for their trap hook, line and sinker, helpless to do anything but watch from up here as they scored below. There was just no way I could possibly get down in there in time, unless- unless…!
…I had an idea.
It wasn't a good idea. In fact, it was quite terrible. Very possibly the worst idea I'd ever had in my entire life. I'd go so far as to say that any self-respecting Quidditch player who found themselves having an idea like this should immediately sign off and take a break until their mental health had been properly re-evaluated. It was that bad.
But I didn't have time to take a break right now, or evaluate my psyche, or anything at all. All I had was an insane, dangerous and all around awful idea which only had a billionth chance of actually working, and even that was a generous estimate.
Katie was raising her hand with the Quaffle in slow motion. In less than a moment, she'd score Gryffindor's first goal. I was officially out of time to consider my options any further. It was now, or never.
I turned back to look at Alicia one last time, as if silently pleading for her to prevent me from going through with it. If she'd said "no," or even just shaken her head in disapproval, I probably would have come to my senses again, accept they'd outsmarted me and cut my losses.
Naturally, she did no such thing. Why would she? She wasn't psychic, and couldn't possibly have known what I was about to attempt, or that she was the last barrier holding me back. She was still smiling about her imminent victory.
I gave her the most defiant look I could muster right before purging my mind of every logical, rational and self-preserving thought until all that remained was wild, primal instinct- only with that frame of mind did my next action seem a little less monumentally stupid.
Then, I jumped off my broom.
I managed to catch a brief glimpse at Alicia's face as I pushed myself off the only thing keeping me suspended over thirty feet in the air. She wasn't smiling anymore. Then, she disappeared from view and mind as I dropped like a rock towards the grassy pitch below.
I ignored the wind rushing against my hair and face as I fell, focusing on accomplishing the three, very specific things that I'd have to do very, very fast with needlepoint precision for this to have any chance of success. If I failed any of these steps, I'd not only let my entire team down, but less importantly probably wake up in the Hospital Wing with all my bones broken, or, well, die. So, y'know. No pressure.
Step one, use the momentum to turn around and see where I'm going.
Maneuvering my body around while wearing heavy, rain-soaked Quidditch robes was about as simple and easy as it sounded, but I somehow managed it. I was now directly facing the left metal ring rapidly coming towards me as I fell.
Step two, grab onto it and DON'T LET GO!
Knowing I only had one shot at this, I feverishly grasped outwards with both hands the moment the top of the metal ring came within reach. Its smooth surface eluded my left hand's outstretched fingers and for one, paralyzing nano-second I feared the worst. But then, my right hand closed tightly around the cold, wet metal. I wanted to cry out in a mixture of triumph and excruciating pain as my fall abruptly ended and my arm nearly ripped from its socket. But there wasn't time to recover from the shock- I still had yet to do the third, and most crucial step of them all.
Step three, DON'T LET KATIE SCORE!
My eyes were watering from the strain on my arm not to mention the hammering rain, and my vision was nothing but a blurry mess of fuzzy shapes. But there, among all those shapes at the very bottom, I could just about make out the dimensions of a round, red object hurtling itself closer.
With the very last strain of effort I had in me, I managed to aim a weak kick towards it. I couldn't see if I hit it or not, but I felt a momentary heavy impact against my toes, followed by the sight of the red thing shrinking away and disappear from sight again.
I hit the ball… with my foot? Ahaha… I thought deliriously. "Foot-ball…" What a crazy concept, ahaha…
I'd done it. My crazy idea had actually worked- unless of course this was all just a fantasy I was having after my body had hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Maybe I was dead, and I'd gone to the great Quidditch match in the afterlife… Funny, I'd never imagined arriving here would be this painful…
As my vision gradually returned, I was just about able to make out Katie Bell, flying before me on her broom. As the details returned I could see her face, paler than death, staring at me with an expression frozen in sheer horror. I returned the look, hoping I appeared more dignified than I felt. Eventually, she retreated and floated away.
"Yeah, you better run…" I muttered feebly as I dangled helplessly within the ring, immensely thankful for the high-quality material of my gloves. Without them, I probably wouldn't have been able to hold on to the wet and slippery metal as well as I did.
"HOLY SMOKES!" Lee Jordan's voice was bellowing in my ears, ecstatically. "I'VE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THAT BEFORE IN MY LIFE! WHAT AN AMAZING SAVE!"
I smiled to myself and basked in the praise, raising my other hand to secure my position a little better. It was so rare to hear any Gryffindor even acknowledge Slytherin's achievements, and when it came from Jordan especially, you knew it had to be something really impressive.
Yeah, I suppose it was, wasn't it? I thought, proudly. I doubt any other Keeper has done what I just did in the entire history of Hogwarts! I'm really that good!
"I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TELL Y'ALL, FOLKS!" Jordan's gushing continued. "ONE ARM BROKEN, AND HE STILL MANAGED TO CATCH IT! IF THAT'S NOT THE SIGN OF A BORN SEEKER, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THEN I DUNNO WHAT IS!"
My pride ebbed away on the spot as I realized what, and whom, Jordan was actually talking about.
…oh. I thought slowly, smile vanishing. Potter caught the Snitch. We lost the match.
Then, as that sunk in, a great rage overcame even the pain in my arms.
DRACO LOST TO A BLOKE WITH A BROKEN FUCKING ARM?!
When I figured out how I was gonna get down from here, I was going to kill that idiot!
Moving along the wide curve of the ring, (very carefully, might I add!) I eventually managed to reach the thick pole below and wrap my legs around it. On the whole it went relatively painlessly, with only a few minor slip-ups that might've caused me to fall to my certain doom.
On the way, I noticed my passenger-less Nimbus 2001 just a few meters beneath me, slowly and peacefully descending to the ground.
I resisted the temptation to just push myself off the goalpost, catch the broomstick and land a whole lot more gracefully. I probably could have done it, but… one death-defying stunt was probably enough for today, wasn't it?
So, I settled on sliding down the wet pole instead, wrapping my arms, knees and boots around it as tight as I could. For some extra motivation, I imagined doing the same to Draco Malfoy's neck.
I'd barely made contact with the muddy grass when I heard the shrill cry behind me.
"MONIKA! OH MY GOSH, ARE YOU OKAY?!"
I turned, catching the brief glance of a bright red bow bobbing rapidly towards me, and next thing I knew, a pair of strong, desperate arms had captured me in the tightest hug I'd ever had. Dazed, I barely comprehended the sweet, round face burying itself in my shoulder.
"I- I'm fine, S- Sayori…" I half chuckled, half choked, struggling to keep myself upright. It was only now that I realized how exhausted I was, every single muscle of my body being intensely sore. I imagined the moment I sat down next, I'd probably pass out on the spot and sleep for a week straight. "Just… had to go a little off-script there, ahaha…"
"Don't you ever do something like that again!" The girl commanded, somehow tightening her embrace. Her voice was shaking, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost say she was cross with me for some reason.
From over the Vice President's shoulder, I could see another, taller girl approaching hurriedly. There seemed to be some kind of invisible barrier over her head, as the pouring raindrops that came too close to her were repelled off to the sides where they then trickled down around her to the ground, keeping her pristine purple hair safe and dry.
"That was a very bold move, Monika." She said solemnly the moment she got close enough to be heard over the rain.
"Thanks, Yuri!" I smiled gratefully back at her. At least my friends had seen what I'd done. "Yeah, I suppose it was, wasn't it?"
But to my bewilderment, she didn't return my smile.
"That wasn't a compliment." She shook her head sternly.
"Huh?" I raised an eyebrow before attempting to escape from the iron hold I was in. "Sayori, please- I can't breathe!"
She reluctantly let go, and I was treated to the sight of her blue eyes, unusually wide and fearful as they stared at me. What was the matter here?
"If I've understood the flawed rules of this game correctly-" Yuri elaborated. "-then jumping off your broom to protect one ring seems like an incredibly high risk for a comparatively low reward. Am I correct in this assessment?"
"Well…" I began awkwardly, not sure how to respond.
"You could have died!" Sayori exclaimed in a hushed voice. "And all just to prevent Gryffindor from scoring once?! Why?!"
"I- I dunno..." I shrugged, unsurely. "I guess I just… like to give my all in games. It's always been like that. If I see an opportunity to win, I take it. No matter what."
I frowned then, noticing the Gryffindor team standing off to the side, basking in the cheers of the crowd.
Oh right. I remembered. I need to murder Draco!
"Not that it mattered anyway, since we fucking lost!" I spat bitterly.
"It's o- okay Moni," Sayori assured me with a sniffle, looking close to crying. Maybe she'd already started with her tears mixing with the rain. "D- don't be upset, please! You're still the b- best player to us!"
Yuri's expression softened considerably as she pulled out her wand, muttered something and immediately the rain ceased around me and Sayori. I glanced up to see the sideways repelling effect in the water above our heads, like an invisible umbrella.
"I hope you won't take our criticisms in the wrong way." She said with a small smile, and gestured for us to walk closer to the podiums nearby. "It was a truly impressive performance, we were just a bit… concerned. When you were hanging up there, Sayori squeezed my hand so hard I nearly broke a bone!"
A guttural, pained groan ebbed out from the nearby crowd of Gryffindors. It was only now that Harry Potter was visible, lying flat on the ground in their midst, clutching his arm.
Yuri cringed visibly.
"Oh, uh… I'm sorry, that was a- poor turn of phrase."
"You were really that worried?" I asked Sayori with a frown. She blushed up a storm.
"Ehehe… m- maybe just a little…" She gave a weak giggle. "It looked… really dangerous."
I suppressed a sigh, and then smiled reassuringly. It wouldn't do to have my best friend going around the place, so anxious over something I'd done. I would have to downplay it for her sake.
"Look, I'm very sorry for upsetting you both." I said "But I promise I wasn't ever in any real danger. I knew exactly what I was doing the whole time, and-"
Before I could finish, a brief but incredibly bright light flashed before my eyes, followed closely by a tremendously loud CRASH right behind us. As my sight adjusted, I instinctively threw my head back and peered towards the top of the goalpost I'd been dangling from just minutes before. I was shocked to see a huge cascade of sparks showering from a glowing, orange spot on the ring where the lightning had struck.
I stared wide-eyed at the pole for a few seconds, lost for words. When I looked back at my friends again, they seemed equally speechless, though their silent glares were anything but.
Okaaay… bit awkward.
Finally, I cleared my dry throat.
"Uhm… w- we should probably get to cover…" I suggested meekly, searching my surroundings for any excuse to leave. "…oh look, my team is landing! I should go, see you guys later at the Club, all right?!"
Without waiting for their stern replies, I grabbed my broom and set into a medium-paced sprint away from them, towards the boys in soaked green robes identical to mine who indeed had gathered in a small group far away from the Gryffindor victors. My water repelling shield deteriorated more and more the further I got from Yuri until it vanished entirely and exposed me to the heavy rain again.
Flint's loud voice reached me before I'd even made it within fifteen feet of my teammates, screaming his lungs out and sounding angrier than I'd ever heard him before. I winced, preemptively.
"-RIGHT BESIDE YOUR HEAD, IT WAS! HOW THE HELL COULD YOU MISS IT?! WHEN I SAID WE COULD BE ASLEEP UP THERE, I DIDN'T ACTUALLY MEAN YOU SHOULD CLOSE YOUR EYES!"
I froze on the spot before I made it all the way over, caught off guard. When I heard we'd lost the match I'd wanted to kill Draco with my bare hands, but upon taking in the scene before me, it looked like Flint was way ahead of me. For once, the Captain's yells weren't directed at me, but at Draco, who stood red-faced and silent whilst staring back at the aggressor. It was hard to decide which one of them looked the most livid.
"WE HAD EVERY ADVANTAGE!" Flint kept going, prodding a thick, provocative finger straight into Draco's chest. He didn't react beyond an unstable eye twitch. "WE WERE FASTER THAN THEM, THEIR SEEKER WAS TARGETED BY A BLUDGER, HELL, THEY DIDN'T EVEN SCORE A SINGLE TIME THANKS TO WINTHER!"
I had to literally pinch myself at the off-handed comment. Marcus Flint… was praising me?! Surely this had to be a dream, right? I'd missed the goal after all, fallen all the way down and slipped into a coma. Yeah, that had to be it. This scenario seemed less probable than Natsuki sending me a heartfelt card for Valentine's Day. It was the only explanation that made any sense.
Except this had to be the most realistic dream I ever had then, since I could clearly feel the sharp pain as I dug my nails into my flesh.
"YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID? SHE JUMPED OFF HER BROOM TO DEFEND OUR RING! YOU WERE OUTPLAYED BY A FUCKING GIRL!" Flint spat, and then proceeded to make it even more weird and surreal by adding; "HELL, I SHOULD JUST DEMOTE YOU ON THE SPOT AND MAKE HER THE SEEKER FROM NOW ON!"
Now, I've never been the type of girl to find glee in other people's misfortune. Pointing fingers and laughing at someone being punished, even if they wholeheartedly deserved it, had never really appealed to me, personally. Stuff like that seemed much more up the alley of someone like Crabbe, Goyle and, well, Draco.
But in that moment, I couldn't deny the feeling of satisfaction swelling up inside my chest. Was this it? Was I finally getting recognized for my skills and given the position I was actually owed?! I didn't even care if I was dreaming now, since this was better than any reality I thought possible!
But the furious glint in Draco's eyes quickly brought me back to reality. I knew at once Flint had pushed him too far.
"You do that, and the Nimbuses are gone." He sneered back at the sixth year. Though the blonde boy was much shorter and his voice couldn't hope to reach the boom of the Captain's shouts, his low and venomous tone somehow managed to be just as intimidating. "Don't threaten me, Flint. You know my father and what he could do to you."
Flint looked like he'd just been slapped with the full force of the Hogwarts Express, and was the first to blink as Draco turned on the spot.
"Never forget," He hissed tauntingly over his shoulder. "You might be the 'Captain,' but I own this team!"
The boy then stormed off, almost colliding with me on the way.
"Draco…?" I began softly, although not entirely sure why- I suppose it just didn't sit right with me to let him walk away in that state of mind without at least trying to reach out and resolve things. Yeah, I was upset with him for a great many things, but I wasn't some monster. I could tell when my childhood friend was hurting badly.
I regretted my action almost immediately when he turned on me.
"WHAT?!" He snapped, glaring at me with hatred flaring in his eyes. "WHAT IS IT?!"
I couldn't help myself from taking a step back in alarm. The look on his face… it was downright unhinged. His teeth were bared in an animalistic snarl, like someone who might tear out the throat of anyone who dared to stand in his way.
It was the first time in my life I'd ever been proper frightened of Draco Malfoy. He was completely unrecognizable from the goofy little kid I'd once known who'd loved competing with me and having pillow-fights at our sleepovers. And I realized then it'd been a very, very long time since I'd last seen that kid.
This… wasn't the same person. It was someone else entirely- some arrogant, spiteful stranger who didn't have a care for anyone in his life, except himself.
Someone I'd never want to have in the Literature Club.
Any words of comfort I might've had died long before they even reached my throat. The moment soon passed, and the stranger continued angrily stomping across the wet Pitch towards the changing rooms. I could only stare blankly after him, wondering when exactly I'd lost my oldest friend.
"Winther."
I turned abruptly at the gruff voice, and saw Flint now approaching me. Rather than displaying the annoyance and impatience he usually reserved for me, he seemed strangely mellow and forlorn.
"…yes?" I asked, unsurely. It was weird seeing him so hesitant and awkward. He even seemed too embarrassed to meet my eyes.
I'd never, in my wildest dreams thought 'oddly adorable' would have been a good descriptor for Marcus Flint of all people, but… here we were.
"…you did… good, out there." He reluctantly told my boots with a pained expression. It looked like he would've preferred taking twelve Bludgers to the face. "We… I… underestimated you, and I'm- sorry, about that."
I stared at him blankly, tempted to pinch myself again. This really wasn't lending much credence to the 'not a dream' theory.
"It's… okay?" I replied, not knowing what else to say.
"But… you're gonna have to stay Keeper." He crossed his arms, and a bit of the old brashness returned to his voice. "Not because you're not fit to be Seeker, believe me. With that stunt, you're easily one of the most dedicated players we've ever had on the team."
"Th- thank you, Sir!" I stammered out, feeling a beaming smile emerge on my face. As weird as it was hearing this, I couldn't deny how good it felt.
"If I could, I'd kick that little Malfoy shit off the team like that." He snapped his fingers. "Maybe have my boys beat his ass too, for good measure. Dude's a right prick, he is. But we just… can't lose these brooms."
I probably would've been miffed at that under normal circumstances. Valuing ill-gotten brooms over good players like me was a rather big pet-peeve, after all.
But right now, in this moment… I was just happy hearing Flint talking to me like a normal person, without hostility. Like I'd finally earned his respect.
Gosh, this day has just been a never-ending emotional hippogriff ride, hasn't it?
"I- I understand." I nodded. "No problem. And, uh- you can call me Monika, if- if you want."
"Aw'right, Monika." His face eased up into what seemed like a relieved smile as he clapped my shoulder approvingly. "I'm Marcus. Welcome to the team, good to have you."
The moment lasted for maybe a second, and then he snapped right back into his old Captain persona, hollering for the rest of the team to hit the showers. As we marched, I looked up ahead to see Draco and Pansy Parkinson, who'd come running down from the Slytherin podium with a green umbrella in hand to approach him, clearly unaware of the foul mood he was in.
The boy pushed her away the moment she reached him, roughly. With a girlish yelp, she dropped the umbrella and landed on her bottom in an extra muddy puddle which was promptly added to my expanding list of 'moments I'd feel way too guilty laughing at, but were still objectively hilarious.'