VII

FRED AND GEORGE, MIND HEALERS EXTRAORDINAIRES

He was a tiny thing in those days. She saw Leanne raise to get a better look at him; Katie could just about make something of his face under that brim. The first thing she saw were his eyes—big round, behind some quirky eyeglass (a bit on the large size), and "quite low-class", according to The Cod.

They were green, a creepy brilliant shade—"he looks like Jade," said The Cod, referring to their house elf.

Katie thought that was a little mean, but laughed to herself at the panic in the boy's gaze. He glanced at the table in green, a bit frightened, a bit nauseous. Leanne, the cautious and caring queen that she was, couldn't help but to say:

"Oh no, please don't sort him that way …"

Katie and The Cod's eyebrows rose, while looking at their dear primrose. A smile tugged at The Cod's lips, and Katie had just enough time to get him into her firm grips. The Cod wiggled his eyebrows to her and she shook her head at that mad cur. He pouted but didn't make a move anymore. Katie kept gazing at him for just a moment more before the roar:

"GRYFFINDOR!"

They clapped loudly as that tiny boy ran towards their aisle, with a relieved and sweet smile. He plopped down between the other firsties, shooking the hands of quite some people—including in her year: McLaggen and that nice girl, Sybill. Katie didn't bother with politicking much, but she saw Leanne's hesitation.

Katie let go off The Cod for just enough time for him to do his machination: it took only a little nudge for Leanne to budge.

What? What did you think The Cod would do? C'mon, don't be so quick to judge; The Cod can be sweet, too.

"That nest of a hair is an offense to good common sense. I know a spell to make him—"

Cut! See, there you have it. Katie glanced mirthfully at her small red bean—oh my, how she grew quick, her little queen. Her first crush, judging by that ferocious blush!

She glanced at the boy and just could not see why. Granted, he wasn't Vincent Rosier gross, but he was just like some every day guy. Even The Cod outdid him, and not by very close.

"—it also would grow on his nose and sprout a mighty mole—"

When you had him on control, of course.

Katie was intrigued at the boy hero, she had to admit, while glancing at him from her seat. But the words of her mother resounded on her head. It was probably something his parents had done to put an end to that dread. The whole Boy-Who-Lived thing was probably a farce, surely pulled directly from someone's—

"Katie! What did you think of Potter?" Leanne said timidly at her side, while The Cod was away, sat astride on the bench entertaining Mr Finnigan's admiration gaze to his ideals and fishy ways.

"I don't know, he just look like The Cod's elf, Jade," she said, a bit baffled, and a bit afraid with the girl's fixation.

"Doesn't he?" She said in admiration.

Katie blinked and just now wondered if The Cod was really the maddest of them all. Perhaps she, Katie was the oddest oddball. And then, she heard The Cod continue his treacherous intrigue:

"Of course I know the Bombarda spell. The trick is not to yell—"

Scratch that. She would have to learn much before she caught up to that prat. But Leanne had a few loose screws, too. Eh, the more you knew—

She glanced at Harry Potter as he gobbled down some pie made of lemon or cherry with a phenomenal ferocity and wondered how could Leanne take a liking to this atrocity.

Hahaha!

Oh reader, I'll dearly make her eat those words before the end. With dread and doubt and longing and fear—but fret not, friend; this is a story of happiness and cheer.

In due time and in the end, of course, cause' I'll just have to have it rhyme, because of that darned curse. A story is not complete, sweet or great without its crooks and bends, its snips and mends.

Just you wait, lil' Kate, I'll set this straight, soon enough.

Good and boring finally ended for Katie at the Chaser trial, because now she couldn't be seen walking around without a full blown smile. She had a scarlet uniform with Bell in golden letters and a swell pair of gloves that she'd to try very hard not to crow—for Aunt Jo and her parents managed to get Gwenog Jones herself to sign the gloves with a 'Give them hell, Katie Bell!' as a gift for getting on the team—and what a team they had!

She was glad that she'd clicked with Angelina and Alicia on an instant, and Wood was very glad for the new addition, as he saw his plans from many years prior now growing to fruition. The Twins stopped growing upwards so fast and were finally putting some weight on, and were always ready to blast whatever they set the Bludger upon. Wood was a wall, and even the Chasers had difficulties managing to find an opening to throw the ball. They were fast as lightning—it was honestly kind of frightening; the Chaser trio was now truly a lean, mean … speed thingy!

But they also had a tragedy on their midst, a hole in the dream team, something that no scheme, formation, tactic or training Wood would ever manage to make it good. They lacked a Seeker—and from what Katie heard on the Common Room, their prospects this year were tinged with gloom. Wood was considering three different lads for the team, though everyone could tell just by the tone of his voice that none fitted their scheme.

They needed someone fast, agile—nimble but not fragile. Someone of a slighter build, and lighter on the air, still. They needed someone that could skim by a Bludger shot and still manage to have that snitch caught.

And that, they had not. Which meant that Katie and the girls had to improve theirs shots if they wanted any chance for the first spot that Gryffindor sought for so many years now.

And trained they did—for a week or so—because suddenly Harry Potter's fabulous main character power came about, and Wood had to exercise all his restrain not to freak out and shout to the entire Gryffindor Tower:

"We have a new Seeker!"

It was the gossip of the hour: people heard him still while he passed the news to Fred. He was a bit of a loud speaker, anyways. And George shooking his head in disbelief was just what the gossip mill needed to share around that new spill—Harry Potter was going to play for Gryffindor!

Tales ran wildly about Potter almost kissing the floor while coming up from a Wronski Dive! Some looked forward to seeing the feint, but Katie, seeing that the boy was alive, was just a tad bit sceptical of all that talking and gawking at the boy's supposed skill!

Granted: he didn't look the type to go for the kill, but Katie found it amusing nonetheless imagining that tiny brat feinting the others with a bang, making Higgs eat grass, or even that new girl on Ravenclaw … was it Chang?

Katie had studied with the girl for a year now, and yet did not remember her name yet somehow.

She eyed Harry from afar, noting how pleased he seemed to be, his eyes hiding his glee not so very subtly at all. He was so small, but yes, now she understood what Wood saw—he had the just build and the size for it.

She just hoped he could rise up to the test; she just hoped that herself could give her best.

They might just have a chance to win this year. But she'd hold that thought until she saw Potter's tier—and to see if there was truly something behind those stories that were making rounds around the dormitories.

"What do you mean, I could've tried for the team last year?"

Alicia and Angelina looked for some help from the twins, but the prats were sporting quite a pair of cheeky grins as they floated lazily around them. Katie had a thunderous expression on her face as she glared at her teammates.

"Well, the rulebook states that first-years cannot have their own broom—" Angelina began cautiously.

"But there's nothing there about trying out. So, if you assume—" Alicia continued, but Katie wasn't paying attention.

She wanted to shout that it wasn't fair that no one told her that. She hadn't even know when or where were the trials last year. She was a bit angry at first, but then it downed on her that it was quite silly to feel this way—after all, who could go on the team without a good broom to play. She did not trust the school brooms at all—she was convinced that the one from her lesson with Hooch tried to make her fall!

When Harry Potter showed to his first training session, however, with a Nimbus-Two-Thousand over his shoulder, she couldn't help but think that whatever the rule was, it was but a bunch of moider to Harry Potter.

She felt a bit embarrassed and confused at the attempt to rein in her feelings: was that envy with just a touch of contempt? Or was it self-doubt because he'd managed to get in just with a scout—that Wood refused to mention, the prat, even though Katie suspected a certain cat.

She gulped it all down and made an honest attempt to start this well. It wasn't the boy's fault, and he was polite and gentle from what she could tell.

"Alright, Harry? My name is Katie Bell. I'm new to this whole thing, to tell you the truth — I'm happy to have you on the team, too. We needed a good Seeker after last year."

Wood snorted.

"Good? You should've seen him turn around from that dive, some sheer inches above the ground," Wood said with great cheer in his voice.

Harry blushed, his face a mixture of shyness and joy, and Katie smiled at the embarrassed boy.

"I'm Harry. Well, thanks. I hope to do my best to fit in," he finished timidly as all the others welcomed the new addition to their ranks.

Katie let go off his hand and looked towards her teammates as they took their stand. Wood kicked the balls to the air, and suddenly they all took to the game, each one with their own personal flair.

She noticed Harry the most. The boy certainly had something to boast, flying around them with a smile, in a very clean riding style—a natural, if she ever saw one.

For a moment she dared to hope, but suddenly, a treacherous, self-doubting voice deep inside her said: nope!

Something weird tugged at her and she tried very hard not to let that stir—but it still bothered her.

Harry could fly, but him as a Seeker was an idea she had yet to buy. She didn't know why: he had the talent to show, and he made even herself feel slow. But yet, she could not shake that off—she did not let that show, though.

She wasn't inclined to voice her opinion yet; she was too kind and self-conscious for that. She would give him a chance to prove himself.

And it was not like he was the only one that had to do that. She felt, more than saw, Wood and the other girls gaze, partly in awe and praise, partly judging and waiting, and evaluating: her moves, her throws, her flying skills, her attitude in the training drills.

She would prove her value in the next match; she was also sure Harry would not let someone else catch that snitch. She was sure of that just as much sure that she was a witch.

"You are at great at flying, Harry," she said once when Wood cut them some slack, coming back to the Common Room. "We're going to deliver those snakes to their doom in the next match."

She saw the boy scratch his head, bashful and all red, and she found it funny how easy he was to play with. It was endearing even, in a way.

"Do you really believe that?"

He tried to keep the words flat, but Katie still saw the nervousness, the fear and the emotion. She felt some of that, too, as match day approached; as if someone was dosing her with a Nerve-Wrecking Potion—and, oi, why would someone bother inventing something like that?

She glanced at the dark spots around his eyes, at the many bruises around his arms and face. Harry truly was working more than all the other guys, trying to finally earn his place.

His place: as the Seeker for Gryffindor. That and nothing more: no Boy-Who-Lived, not a hero against the Dark; and certainly not someone people should try to imitate, to benchmark.

She had already talked to him enough to know: as much as people liked to talk about that stuff, it was something Harry wished they would forego.

Katie felt chills going through her as she finally cracked why she felt so unsure about the boy's skills: she disliked that he'd entered the team just by the good grace of a certain cat, while she had to chase her position through grit and a great lot of training to get to that.

Harry Potter represented what she did not like about the world: privilege, a fraud, people pretending to be God and trying to plot with which they had no right to. He was also … not!

He was nothing like that.

He was just a tiny, hard-working and humble brat.

He was just a sweet guy, studious, that knew—better than most in the castle—how to fly.

She had a lot to think about in those days, and she hoped she and Harry would not let the taunts faze them; it seemed they were always on the gaze of everyone in the castle.

But that was just a phase, and soon the world would know the value of the rookies in Gryffindor. They would soon not long for those days of yore—of Charlie Weasley, of Potter—of James, that is.

It was now the time for Potter, the son; of Katie, their best chaser. She would not have to face them; they would have to face her!

"Run, Leanne, for the love of Merlin and of all that is beautiful and vain, run you little mouse," said The Cod, as Percy Weasley bravely lead the house back towards the Common Room.

The Cod clasped his hands with the girls, dragging them through the crowd, leaving the stupid and the loud ones arguing behind them, hissing as they passed a slow fourth-year, that seemed a bit dolt with fear. Katie felt her heart race, beating loud and clear at Professor Quirrell's words: a troll! A troll in the castle!

Some dunces were making a lot of hassle for the Head Boy. Leave it to McLaggen to annoy them at such a time! The boy who dreaded touching cauldron grime would take down a mountain troll, h'mph!

Good thing he was caught in time, too—Katie found him a bit irritating, but didn't want the troll whacking him like a mole.

The Cod, though, was just a tiny bit frazzled, as he dragged them through the crowds in a blur, leaving a whole bunch of Gryffs dazzled as he rushed forward to give the key word.

"Caput Draconis, da* * * * *!"

"It changed today. Its is now—" Percy began, but the Fat Lady opened the way, and the whole house rushed in.

"Hogwarts will protect its students while it can, Mr Weasley," she said, elevating her chin in pride. "Now, go on, and take care of those wide-eyed frightened dears."

And that they were. But soon enough, Percy and his peers sprung to action, rounding everyone in. The Cod tried to dismiss his overreaction, and Katie and Leanne didn't push it … much.

"Such bravery, such courage, such a slippery little fish!" taunted Leanne.

The Cod was angry for a quick second, but schooled his face and said, in a deadpan.

"Leanne, all that sass will just make me curse your dirty, nasty—"

"HARRY!" Exclaimed Katie.

"Yes! Hairy, too. Your dirty, nasty—"

"No, Cod. Shut up. Harry Potter, where the hell is Harry?"

Leanne gasped and The Cod looked at them with wary.

"Probably trying to take on the troll himself, that clodpoll and company. Wasn't Beasley on his payroll?"

Leanne huffed.

"Weasley is his friend, a concept which you may find hard to understand."

"Ah, c'mon, Leanne, don't play pretend. I love you, too."

"And Weasley is not here, too. Have any of you got a clue—" Katie began with worry, but she did not have to.

For suddenly that blockhead finally resolved to appear. Katie's heart gave a leap of relief, after that brief and scary night. And what a sight he was.

With dust and debris on his hair and face, with wet clothes up to his knee, with something that looked suspiciously like snot on his cloak, and—

"He did not …" The Cod's voice broke.

There were many staring in wonder at the blood spot on Harry's shirt, and though the boys and that Granger girl evaded them all, it didn't took longer for someone to blurt:

"Potter managed to kill the troll?"

Blurt turned into gossip, which soon reached The Cod's ears.

And soon Katie found herself in one of her greatest fears—The Cod was now obsessed with the Seeker for Gryffindor.

His eyes were full of wonder and fishiness and malice, and Katie could only begin to think of what he had in store for what was to come. She would have to smack him dumb to keep him at bay.

And speaking of Quidditch, gossip soon reached Wood, too, and … how should I say?

Let's just say that Harry Potter was in for a chewing.

But nay, as the story unfolds, there appears a new player, a novelty in which this story would build on. Wood was angry, but Katie was just on another layer that day.

"An' I've just got no more mynadd with ya, you little c***, you hear me? Again: just try that stunt, and you may just give us all a heart attack. Didn't you think of anyone when you did that?"

—was what she would've said, if it wasn't for Fred, who'd readied his bat to adjust Harry's brains.

"Though it pains me, little Harry, I must fix your little head."

Harry jumped.

"Hey, I'm not crazy, I just had to get to Hermione before she was dead."

They blinked and listened to the story in wonder and a little bit of dread, and Wood's face turned from purple to red; and Katie was intrigued, but yet promised not to tell.

"She was in the bathroom when we got a whiff of the troll's smell. If we hadn't turned back in time …"

And suddenly the twins were not so droll. Katie blanched and mushed up his hair as she gave him a one-armed hug.

And then Wood just had to chime:

"But the match is so close, you can't go on anymore adventures like those!" he said sternly.

George, the more level-headed of the twins, got up at that.

"Wood, meet your enemy for the day, the brain-fixer wooden bat!"

And he ran after their captain, who let out a shrill scream as he flew towards the pitch. And the rest followed them, in just a hitch, all of them laughing at that amusing sight. Katie hadn't let go off Harry yet. It didn't felt right. But soon they took up to the air, and the pair of them each took their own brooms. She would like to say that the story did not scare her.

But she could not say that. And that's how we found ourselves late at night in the Common Room, with Katie wide-awake and Leanne trying to supress a yawn in front of the fire.

"You can't help but to admire him and Ron. But it was so close … Imagine, Leanne, if it was you or The Cod. I think I would've just froze."

Leanne grabbed her hand as she tried to take the story in. Katie trusted Leanne with that, her kind princess, that caring queen.

"They say that Granger was … kind of rejected by them—" she began tentatively.

Katie huffed.

"I find that hard to believe. The girl is like a mother hen around those two."

Leanne laughed, as did Katie.

As did Hermione too.

Leanne and Katie whipped their heads around to the girl, who was watching them from a small chair besides the window, and were quite ready to make excuses and say a bunch of sorry's. But they didn't need to do that, because soon they were trading stories: of what truly happened, of Hogwarts, of life in the Muggle and in the Wizarding World; and Hermione Granger made two more friends that day—yay!

"Err, Katie, who is The Cod?" Hermione asked in curiosity after some time.

Oh, and an erratic partner-in-crime too in a few days it seemed.

A bunch of things happened, but to tell you the truth, I was quite oblivious to all that drama in my youth. I think there was something about a stone, or about a forbidden corridor or some forbidden zone. Meh, forgot the details!

But I have not forgotten the tales around that Gryffindor vs Slytherin match. O my, how could anyone ever forget that catch!

Harry just about swallowed the Golden Snitch. And Katie: she was the best witch in the field! She was a blur of red cutting through that sea of green that was the Slytherin team. Flint took long enough to get a hint: they could not block that girl, as she went on a whirl around them. They soon turned to savagery, as was customary.

But in this story, different from the ones you already know, there was another variable, a friend of Katie that liked to put on a show.

It didn't help that a certain small fish managed not only to learn of the Lacarnum Inflamarum spell through a certain Miss Granger, but had—just as well—made friendships with a certain pair of redheads. They needed only a bit of ingenuity, and soon the Bludgers left a trail of sparks and reds as they flew towards the boys in green, making them scream.

Oh, it was only cosmetic, The Cod would swear—but I wouldn't trust him when he had that stare, and that freaky smile.

Gryffindor won with style, with Harry catching the Snitch in a novel, splendid way, but soon enough people tried their best to ruin their day.

They were saying Harry got lucky, can you believe that?

Notes:

"a bunch of moider": a bunch of BS

"Alright, Name?": informal way to greet someone used frequently by some on those parts

"An' I've just got no more mynadd with ya": "I've just got no more patience with you"

Thank you for reading. I appreciate any and all feedback.