April, 1994.
Standing there, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, Maggie felt a familiar tingle of electricity rushing through her veins. It was a crisp spring afternoon, and the sun was shining high up in the sky, casting a golden hue over the field. The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the distinct aroma of broom polish. The air was filled with the hum of excited chatter from the stands, a mix of anticipation and nerves that seemed to vibrate through the very ground of the pitch. That exact feeling was the sole reason she played, besides the fact that she was absolutely brilliant at the game.
"—AND HERE COMES THE SLYTHERIN TEAM!" yelled Lee Jordan, who was acting as commentator with Professor McGonagall breathing down his neck as usual. "MALFOY, DAVIES, MONTAGUE, PUCEY, BOLE, WARRINGTON AND BLETCHLEY. THE CAPTAIN SURE LIKES TO SOURROUND HERSELF WITH MATES—"
"JORDAN!"
"VERY WELL, HERE ARE THE HUFFLEPUFFS!" the commentary continued. "DIGGORY, PREECE, MACAVOY, APPLEBEE, O'FLAHERTY, RICKETT, AND FLEET—"
As she stood shaking hands with Hufflepuff's team captain, the charming Cedric Diggory, the Slytherin girl radiated confidence. Her grip was firm, perhaps a bit too tight, a deliberate show of dominance. Cedric met her gaze with a smile, his eyes twinkling with friendship. Maggie couldn't help but admire him, even if he was her opponent for the day. The crowd's cheers grew louder as both teams mounted their brooms, the anticipation reaching its peak. The stadium, filled with students and teachers alike, roared with excitement. Banners in house colors waved vigorously, shimmering in the sunlight.
"SLYTHERIN IN POSSESION, MARGARET DAVIES OF SLYTHERIN, HEADED FOR THE GOAL—"
As soon as both teams were in the air and the Quaffle was thrown, the most exciting match of the whole season began. The end score could decide which house won that year's Quidditch cup. Could it be Slytherin, no matter how they played the next game with Gryffindor?
"—AND DAVIES SCORES! TEN-ZERO TO SLYTHERIN—"
Maggie was a school celebrity. Known as a well-accomplished Chaser since joining the team in her second year, her advanced skills were prominent from the very beginning, more so than her cousin Roger's, declaring her a true wunderkind among all of the four houses. Inside the school, she was known to selectively follow rules, and outside on the field, she became infamous for flying at daring speeds and her very risky moves.
"—SLYTHERIN IN POSSESION, MONTAGUE SEEMS TO BE TRYING TO KNOCK RICKETT OF HIS BROOM—"
In her last match, they had flattened out Ravenclaw. Roger had a good tactic and was a skilled player himself, but Maggie knew his weaknesses all too well. Her strategies were brutal and no matter how good Chang was, they didn't stand a chance. Since Flint graduated the previous year, Maggie, the team's only female player, was chosen as captain.
"—PASSED TO DAVIES AND—SCORE! THIRTY-ZERO FOR SLYTHERIN—"
Possibly because she played to win.
"HUFFLEPUFF IN POSSESION—NOW SLYTHERIN, PUCEY HEADING FOR DAVIES—"
That day was no different. Maggie played brilliantly, frequently disappointing the Hufflepuffs by not missing a single goal. The fact that the team was scoring so highly with the first female captain in ages made her potential victory even sweeter, she could almost taste it in the air. Not only that, but with news that professional recruiters would be joining the game, it was crucial for her to be impressive even if they didn't win, she had to show them her best moves. Maggie could imagine it: her five-year plan moved up, she would soon be playing for a notorious team like the Holyhead Harpies or the Falmouth Falcons.
"AND SHE SCORES! THEY SURE PLAY DIRTY BUT—"
"I'M WARNING YOU, JORDAN!"
"NINETY-THIRTY FOR SLYTHERIN!"
On the outside, her mischievous smile beamed with confidence. Her green and silver robes billowed as she darted through the air, her long dark hair tied back and streaming behind her like a banner of victory. She barked orders at her teammates, her voice steady and authoritative, guiding them with the precision of a seasoned leader. The crowd's cheers were a symphony, each chant of her name fueling her determination. Her heart raced not from fear, but from exhilaration; this was her element, her stage, and she was ready to shine.
"—OOF, FLEET STOOD NO CHANCE WITH THAT ONE!"
However, on the inside, she was a bit confused. Something about her game was off that day, and she just couldn't put a finger on it. She had a gut feeling that something would go wrong since first stepping onto the smooth grass, but had to brush it off and concentrate on scoring as much as possible.
"—AND SHE SCORES! WITH JONES IN ATTENDENCE, HOPE EVERYONE SAW THAT PLUNGE—"
After an hour or so, they were well in the lead. That didn't comfort Maggie at all, Cedric had an advantage over the recently injured Malfoy, so she had to ensure her team scored more goals. She scanned the field, her eyes narrowing as she assessed the positions of her teammates and opponents. The Quaffle was tucked securely under her arm as she raced through the Hufflepuff's defense, her movements sharp and precise. Each goal she made was met with roars of approval from the stands, but the nagging sense of unease remained.
"—PUCEY NOW SEEMS TO BE VERY KEEN ON APPLEBEE, PERHAPS THERE'S SOMETHING MORE TO—
The gut feeling came back again, but this time she was holding the Quaffle and preparing to shoot. She scored perfectly, as expected, and stubbornly continued to ignore it. She executed a flawless feint, dodging a Bludger sent her way by O'Flaherty. Her agility was unmatched, her broom responding to her every command as if it was a continuation of her body. The wind whipped against her face, and she could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"—AND THE BLUDGER HITS THEIR OWN—MACAVOY DOWN! PUCEY IN POSSESION, PERHAPS DIGGORY SHOULD KEEP AN EYE ON THE SNITCH THAT PASSED BY HIS FACE RATHER THAN ON DAVIES—"
"LAST WARNING!"
The two Seekers were both desperately trying to catch the Snitch, so it was her last chance to better her team's score. Even if they were to lose the match, Maggie was convinced they could still win the Quidditch Cup. She caught the Quaffle from Montague with ease, cleared her head and headed towards the big circular goals. Because of the speed she was flying at, her eyes sent steaming tears down her cheeks. Rickett was hopelessly sending the Bludgers her way, but she skillfully evaded them, and then just for good measure she knocked him off him broom. Preece and Applebee tried to trap her, but she took a sharp turn and continued to fly towards the goals. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cedric reach out for the Snitch, so she used all the energy she had left to throw the Quaffle one last time.
"—SHE THREW FLEET INTO THE GOAL WITH IT! UNBELIAVABLE—"
She scored, the brutal throw impossible to stop, just as loud cheering signified the end of the match. She stopped in her tracks, shocked.
"SLYTHERIN WINS!"
Malfoy caught the fucking Snitch.
The Slytherin stands erupted in wild celebration, green and silver flags waving furiously. The rest of the team descended, surrounding Malfoy, who held the tiny golden ball aloft with a triumphant grin. Maggie's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of elation and disbelief. They had done it; they had won. She waved a fist up in the air triumphantly, but her moment of victory was short-lived.
"DAVIES WATCH OUT!"
The stopping, she realised, was a fatal flaw. Two Bludgers made their way toward the dazed girl. She almost got hit by the first one, it merely grazed her left hand, but as she tried to steady herself on the broom ignoring the sharp pain in her hand, the second one hit her straight in the head. The brute force of the hit sent her flying several feet backwards, as if the broom moved with a mind of its own, and into one of the stands. She fell unconscious as soon as her head hit the hard wood. The last thing she heard was the muffled screams blending into a cacophony of cheers before everything went black.
"—DAVIES DOWN! I REPEAT, DAVIES DOWN!"
Maggie woke up a week later in St Mungo's. The sterile smell of potions and the soft hum of healing spells filled the air. The room was bathed in the soft glow of enchanted lanterns, and healers moved quietly, their faces a mask of professional concern. Maggie's head throbbed painfully, and she could feel the bandages wrapped snugly around her forehead.
"You gave everyone quite a scare," a healer said, her tone stern but with a hint of relief. "A nasty blow like that could have been much worse if you hadn't fallen onto the stands."
Maggie tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced her to lie back down. Her left hand was encased in a splint, and she could see the faint blue glow of charms swirling around it. The pain was dulled, but she could feel a strange numbness creeping up her arm.
"Your skull was cracked, but that was easy enough to fix," the healer continued. "The real issue was the damage to your hand. The bones were broken, but Skele-Grow took care of that. The problem is the nerve endings. "
At the time, Maggie had no clue what that meant. Surely there was a Nerve-Grow potion?
But here wasn't, and the recovery was hard. As the weeks turned into months, there was barely any progress. Maggie could use her hand, but she had symptoms of severe nerve damage. It would go numb sometimes, and she didn't feel pain or heat as she used to. On the worst of days, the numbing sensation would turn into sharp prickles of pain, similar to small needles. She could endure it; she could get over all of it.
The only thing she couldn't endure was the fact that she could never play again.
July, 1995.
A blue-haired woman in a long leather jacket strolled into a pub in Dalston, London. The place was dimly lit, with sticky floors and tables that had seen better days. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer and smoke. She scanned the room and quickly spotted the silvery-blond girl she was looking for. Weaving through the crowd, she stopped beside a table cluttered with empty glasses and cigarettes. The two figures on the small stage in front of them were giving it their all. The girl, dressed in denim shorts and a white tank top, was singing face to face with a tall, burly boy in sunglasses, her brown hair all over the place as she swung around the stage.
"Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely
And you're never coming 'round,"
"Bloody hell, what am I looking at?" Tonks asked, her eyes wide with astonishment as she turned to Fleur, who was sitting at the table with a glass of red wine in one hand and a cigarette the another. Tonks watched the very drunk Rose and Graham half-sing, half-cry, swaying unsteadily together on the narrow stage.
Fleur shrugged, "It's Karaoke night."
"Let's just say we all imagined our holidays a bit differently," the girl who was sitting next to Fleur spoke up, her expression a mix of amusement and curiosity. "Margaret, pleasure to meet you."
"Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous
That the best of all the years have gone by,"
"I'm Tonks," Tonks said, offering a hand to Maggie, who shook it firmly. "Is this about him?" she asked, sitting down in an empty chair that creaked under her weight.
"You know about Weasley?" Maggie asked, pouring Tonks a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. Tonks nodded as she took the glass. Maggie scoffed. "That's the one."
"And I need you now tonight,
And I need you more than ever,"
"It's quite, well... very—" Tonks started, but Maggie cut her off.
"Pathetic? Definitely," Maggie said, shaking her head. "I've been trying to get her back with Benjy, but she won't budge."
"What happened between them?" Tonks asked, taking a sip of her wine and glancing at the stage.
"Benjy and Rose? He graduated in '93 and went off to play for Puddlemere. They were on and off until she met Tremlett, that git," Maggie explained, her face twisted in grimace.
"With Charlie?" Tonks inquired, eyes widening in surprise.
"Every now and then, I get a little bit restless,
And I dream of something wild,"
"Oh," Maggie paused, frowning. "No idea, she won't talk about it. Last week she got a letter, drank a bottle of wine, and replied with Good. Never contact me again."
"That's it?" Tonks asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"And I need you now tonight,
And I need you more than ever,"
"Yeah. He hasn't replied and she discovered Bonnie Tyler," Maggie said, nodding towards the stage where Rose was now lying on her back, singing the refrain with tears streaming down her face.
"Does she want him to reply?" Tonks asked, looking back at Maggie.
Maggie pointed at Rose, now sprawled on the stage, singing her heart out. "Obviously."
"We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks,
I really need you tonight,
Forever's gonna start tonight,"
"She's actually really good," Tonks watched Rose with a mix of pity and admiration. "Who would've thought? Proper belter."
Fleur laughed, her French accent thickening in her frustration. "Just be 'appy you didn't 'ave to sit through five Waterfalls performances in one night."
"Hey!" Maggie turned to Fleur sharply, her expression amused. "It's the song of the summer."
Tonks glanced at Graham, who was now singing in a high-pitched voice, slurring the words struggling to keep up with the song. "And him?"
"He got accepted into Puddlemere's summer programme," Maggie said, lowering her voice. "His girlfriend didn't."
"So she got jealous?" Tonks pressed, leaning in closer.
"Oh, no." Maggie slurped on the wine. "He told her it's okay because she can still watch him play all summer, so she dumped him in front of everyone during the End-of-Term feast," she said, shaking her head at Graham.
"Ouch." Tonks winced, then turned to Fleur. "So, how's Bill?"
"Je ne parle pas anglais,"
"Smashing," Tonks said with a grin.
Rose stumbled over to the table, her eyes glazed and her movements unsteady. She bumped into a chair, causing it to scrape loudly against the floor, while Graham remained on the stage, the intro to Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer playing in the background.
"It's you again," Rose said, squinting at Tonks.
Tonks smiled warmly. "Wotcher, Rose."
"Your hair was pink," Rose stated, swaying slightly.
"Yeah," Tonks replied, steadying her with a gentle hand.
"Now it's blue," Rose said, her voice filled with childlike wonder.
"Yeah," Tonks confirmed.
"Wicked." Rose nodded, as if she had just solved a great mystery.
"Rose, I need you to come with me," Tonks said, her tone soft but firm.
"You here to kill me?" Rose laughed, her voice tinged with hysteria.
"Nope," Tonks replied seriously, her eyes softening.
"Then I need a drink first," Rose declared with a defiant look, plopping down into a chair with a thud and lighting a cigarette.
But Rose didn't get to have that drink. Instead, Tonks apparated them both out of the dark pub and into a park. The park was a serene contrast to the dingy pub, with well-maintained flower beds and a small pond reflecting the moonlight. Tall, ancient oak trees lined the pathways, casting long shadows on the grass. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of blooming roses.
As soon as they landed, Rose stumbled and fell onto her backside, the sudden shift making her dizzy. Tonks quickly bent down and offered her a hand. "You alright there?" she asked, pulling Rose up with a gentle tug.
"He has a message for you," Tonks said, brushing off some dirt off Rose's hair.
Rose squinted at Tonks, trying to steady herself. "Does he have a big gray beard and stupid spectacles?"
"That's the one," Tonks confirmed, a small smile playing on her lips.
Rose sighed dramatically. "Fine then."
Tonks handed her a birthday card adorned with cats in hats. "He wants you at this address Monday after work," she said, pointing to the address written inside. "He said bring a Daily Prophet."
Rose blinked at the card, then looked up at Tonks. "Anything else?"
Tonks nodded, her expression turning serious. "Sober up, Rose."
With a soft pop, Tonks disapparated, leaving Rose alone in the park. She looked around, recognizing the familiar surroundings, the park was just a short walk from her apartment. She groaned, realizing Fleur would be furious that she had to walk home alone. Stumbling slightly, Rose began to make her way along the park.