Chapter 20: Cannons

The town of Chudleigh was a modest one, settled as was in the county of Devon in the extreme Southwest of England. The townsfolk there were proud of their home, one of the few such small towns which continued the tradition of holding an annual carnival, and were quite pleased with the heated swimming pool which the local primary school left open to the public year round. The six thousand or so residents of the town would have been thrilled to know that they had a professional sports team, and one that was doing particularly well for the first time in several decades.

Alas, the International Statue of Secrecy prevented any such thing, and the townsfolk were entirely ignorant of the fact that just a few miles away from the Chudleigh Cricket Pitch, there was a stadium which could easily house the entirety of the town's population and at that very moment was filled from top to bottom with a crowd of witches and wizards drawn from all over the region. If any resident of the town were to have come too close to the area, they would suddenly have found themselves remembering some urgent reason to be somewhere else; they wouldn't have heard the shouts and cheers, nor seen the bright orange robes of the wizards and witches who were out zooming around the pitch.

"And the Cannons score again on Garret's brilliant strike! Which leaves our score Chudley 170 to Appleby 80," the announcer called with an unfeigned excitement.

Had the townsfolk known that the resident witches and wizards which lived in a separate little enclave within their village referred to the town as 'Chudley' instead of 'Chudleigh', they might have been put out. It wasn't that the magicals had any real reason to prefer that spelling but that was how it had been chartered on the magical side of things, and the few times the issue had been brought up with the Ministry of Magic it had been brushed aside as unimportant and the witches and wizards who had mentioned it had shrugged their shoulders and decided it wasn't really worth the trouble to make a bigger fuss about. So it was that the professional Quidditch team the town hosted had a slightly different name than the the Muggle town.

It had been a full century since the Cannons had won the league, and a few decades since they had even had a winning season. The last ten years they had barely even scraped by a single win. This year, however, was different. The Cannons were undefeated through the first seven games of the season, the entire team was playing with confidence and daring unlike anything the fans had seen in a long, long time.

And in the middle of the stands, sitting prominently in the VIP box, Ronald Weasley was having the time of his life. With every goal the Cannons scored, Ron was clapped on the back. The red-head was being plied with free butterbeer, fans were coming up to shake his hand as they made their way past him to the concessions booth, and if a conversation wasn't about the game itself, it was probably mentioning him. The young wizard had wide grin on his face as he enjoyed the attention. Harry and Hermione were sitting just a row down, having taken their friend up on his offer of free tickets, but for once it Ron wasn't being passed over for attention because of Harry Potter, it was the Boy-Who-Lived who was mostly being ignored in favor of his friend.

Harry couldn't be happier for Ron. It was a relief not to be the biggest draw of social attention, and seeing his friend genuinely happy at the success of his favorite team was a beautiful thing to see. Speaking of seeing, Harry caught a tell-tale glimpse of something shimmering gold heading right by the Cannon seeker.

"It's like it's just daring him to catch it," Harry muttered in disbelief.

And there goes Perkins! He's seen the golden snitch! Dummars is far out of position on this one, and he's caught it! Chamberlain Perkins has caught the snitch and is awarded 150 points making—

The cheers around the stadium subsided for a second as the referee flew over to the scorer's table. There was a momentary hush as the crowd waited expectantly to see what the official ruling was that held up the announcement.

—Can you believe it? According to the officials, Nicholas Garrett scored a last second goal just moments before Perkins grabbed the snitch, making the final score Chudley 330 to Appleby 80! The Cannons have won their eighth straight game, and it's just as after they got 100 points, EXACTLY as the Weasley Seer predicted!

And then it was pandemonium in the stands as the crowd went wild. Tubs of Magipop Popcorn were tossed into the air, fans shot sparks into the sky with their wands, and flashbulbs went off as reporters got pictures of the event. Ron was swarmed with people all shouting questions at him.

Ron Weasley might have found the experience a bit too much if not for the fact that shortly after the chaos began the entire Chudley Cannon team entered the VIP box along with the team manager. It wasn't the first time since Ron's prediction of Chudley Cannon dominance at the start of the season that he got to meet the team, but Ron was no less grinning from ear to ear as he got to meet his sports idols again.

Ron thrust forward a pair of posters, one of Perkins and one featuring Garrett, and stammered out a request for them to sign the posters. He already had one of the entire team autographed by each of them, but a fan could never have too much autographed memorabilia, could he?

Garrett autographed his poster and returned it with a smile and a friendly pat on his shoulder, but Perkins didn't immediately sign his. Instead, the Cannons seeker pulled out an older copy of the Daily Prophet from his travel bag and thrust it towards Ron in turn. "If you don't mind, Mister Weasley, could you autograph this article for me?"

"M-me? Give YOU an autograph?" Ron stammered uncomprehendingly.

"You bet! I have to confess, I didn't really believe in Divinations when I first read this, thought it was all so much rubbish," the Seeker said, pointing to the article that read Seer Predicts Stellar Year for Cannons. "But you're the genuine article. So, please, if you don't mind, I really would like your autograph."

"Go ahead, Ron," Harry encouraged on seeing his friend hesitate. Harry knew what was going through his friends head and knew just what to say. "It's not like you're Lockhart or anything. One autograph won't make you a ponce."

With an even more massive grin, Ron grabbed a quill and signed the paper while Chamberlain Perkins, seeker of the Chudley Cannons, signed his poster. There was a flash of cameras going off.

"I think that's our cue to slip away," Harry whispered to Hermione, who nodded in return. The two friends quietly left the ring of reporters and players, not wanting to get caught up in it, or in Harry's case, not wanting to deflect any of the attention from his friend.

To Ron's delight, the team owner presented him with his own Cannons jersey with his surname emblazoned on the back. Ron Weasley was now officially an honorary member of the team. And then the reporters were asking questions, both of the team and managers, and of Ron as well.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!" a voice called, gaining the floor for another question. "Tobias Faust, Daily Prophet. According to your predictions, would you say that the Cannons will go undefeated this year?"

"Well," Ron mused, taking a moment to come up with something that sounded a little less like a crazed fan and more like a confident prognosticator, "the Inner Eye hasn't exactly seen every game the Cannons will play this year, so I can't say they'll be undefeated for sure, but I wouldn't put it past them. They're definitely going to win it all. Oh, and the next three matches are a sure bet," he added with a wink.

The gathered witches and wizards went understandably wild at that pronouncement, which was why when a thin, older witch wrapped up in numerous shawls and glasses with oversized lenses made her way into the crowd, none of them noticed. Harry, however, dipped his head respectfully and greeted the Hogwarts teacher. Whatever he had thought earlier, his experience with Ron and the ICW had greatly altered his perspective.

"Professor Trelawney."

"Mr. Potter. I would say I was surprised to see you out here, but of course, that is not really so, since I foresaw your appearance," Trelawney said with an air of self-importance.

Just before she half-tripped over her robes.

"What are you doing here, Professor?" Harry inquired.

"What the Portents of Fate have decreed for me to do today is not for me to share," she said, before pointedly glancing up to where Ron was having his picture taken with entire Cannons team. The expression on her face was not a happy one.

"Um, Professor," Hermione began, trying to find a way to apologize for storming out of the teacher's class in Third Year. Until her experience in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had thought her actions entirely justified. Now, however, she felt embarrassed at her earlier behavior.

"Don't worry about it, Miss Granger," Professor Trelawney said, her voice taking on a patronizing tone as she turned to face the young witch. "Skeptics like yourself cannot help that you are unable to see the mysteries of the Inner Eye. I don't hold it against you."

Then Trelawney left Harry and Hermione there as the teacher made her way through the circle of reporters, intent on Ron.

"It's like she wants to offend me on purpose!" Hermione fumed.

"I think it is on purpose," Harry said as he watched the Divinations professor bumble her way to the middle of the circle. He didn't quite understand why, but he couldn't help be think it was all part of her elaborate act.

There was a renewed flash of photography as whispers of, "It's the seer's teacher!" "The great-great granddaughter of Cassandra Trelawney!" and "Look at how big her eyes are in those glasses!" filled the air.

"Professor Trelawney!" the voice of Tobias Faust called out, "are you here to confirm Mr. Weasley's predictions?"

"Will you contradict your student's words?" came another voice.

"What is your business here?" another reporter called out.

"I'm here to…I'm here for…oh, don't tell me…," the batty, frazzled looking professor said as if she suddenly had forgotten her purpose. "Oh, yes, right….I'm here on official Hogwarts business." At that declaration there was an eruption of questions from all sides, before Professor Trelawney silenced everyone with a simple statement. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has some important business to conduct with Mr. Weasley." She gave Ron a very pointed look. "Now come along, Mr. Weasley, you've done enough with your Inner Eye today."

"What about the predictions about the Cannons?" Tobias called out insistently. "Are you saying Ron Weasley's predictions aren't accurate?"

Sybil sighed, before turning to face all the cameras. "Mr. Weasley is my most gifted student. His prediction on this matter is as certain as the art of divination can be."

"Does that mean the Chudley Cannons will win the championship this year?"

"Yes, yes," Trelawney answered back impatiently, "the Cannons will do just fine." Then the Professor grabbed Ron by one of his ears and started dragging him out of the VIP box, giving the red-headed wizard a withering look. "As for Ron himself, though, I am afraid that he is in grave danger."

Ron gulped before Trelawney and him disapparated. From the grip on his ear, he had a good sense from what direction that danger would be coming.