A/N: If you've noticed the changes regarding the categorization of this story, I'm sorry about creating any unnecessary confusion. I don't think I'll spoil anything by admitting that I'm not entirely sure just how dark or graphic the story will end up being. And though mature/dark themes may occur, it may not be enough to make it a 'Category One: Angsty Fic', so to speak. So, in order to be on the safe side, I've decided to let my story enter the more general Drama category, stay M-rated, and keep any warnings in the story summary or A/N for the specific chapters. Sorry to be such a fickle writer in this regard. I hope you'll stay on, nonetheless ;)

Chapter 23: A gathering storm

"Stay in line, Pressett! No foul play!" Ginny yelled against the wind as the Chaser in question cobbed and pushed another team member a little too aggressively, making them tumble together and swerve dangerously close to one of the tall, rustling stands. "Do not make me say it again!"

Frowning, she observed her players bustle and separate before going for the Quaffle again.

It had been under no great protests that Quidditch, miraculously, had been allowed on the school grounds again. Well, 'miraculously' was perhaps the wrong choice of word. It was more like, 'on certain, non-negotiable conditions', which were just another set of words for 'constant supervision' from Aurors posted around the field.

And though getting back on the broom was as comfortable as sliding on her worn leather gloves, currently watching the game unfold with the same practised astuteness that had come so easily to her with the role as Captain, her mind was split.

The news had been announced during one of the following days after the Hogsmeade trip where she and Blaise had, once again, been called to the Headmistress' office to be 'reprimanded' for their 'indiscretions' during the trip, with Rowe and Warwick present as well.

Of course, she and Blaise had some news to bring themselves. There was no other way around it.

Blaise had mostly just sat there in tense silence, letting her talk as before while pressing his lips into a tight, grey line, his whole body buzzing with quiet frustration. She wasn't sure if he had blamed her and which part he may have blamed her for. Perhaps he had given up blaming anyone at all, not seeing any point in it?

She had then tried to explain the situation, directed to McGonagall in particular, knowing she'd find most understanding there, while Warwick, tight-faced, relayed the raw truth of what they had told her at the time, and Rowe practically hit the roof in his own innate tenacity of carrying suspicions and demanding answers that confirmed said unfounded suspicions.

Unsurprisingly, they were both compelled to tell every little detail of what had occurred, repeatedly defending their own positions whenever Rowe interrupted with one of his fastidious questions or shot them one of his cold, narrowed glances that screamed of disbelief.

Eventually, the three adults displayed sober looks in face of this new possible threat near the school on top of the other, and Ginny twisted anxiously in her seat while they looked at each other, debating what to do with this new information, given they had just made leeway regarding Quidditch. Whatever misgivings Ginny had about the surveillance during training and the matches, she felt a stone settle near her heart at the thought of being denied the game again.

Please, please, don't take this away from me once more. It's all I got.

After a long period of contemplation and, perhaps sensing her dread, McGonagall decided against it, sending Ginny a grave, but empathetic expression. She said no more of it but it was enough to make Ginny exhale in quiet gratitude.

It was then discussed and decided that an investigative team of Aurors would be posted in Hogsmeade to look further into the matter of Dorne's appearance.

The subject of Blaise and Ginny's roles in it all was still hanging heavily and unresolved in the air, mixed with one protective aura, one suspicious, one enigmatic and two uneasy ones.

Finally, the Quaffle reached a hoop and a unanimous roar rang out from below.

"Well done, Cassidy!" Ginny responded as she was driven from her ruminations and watched the heaving Chaser fist-pump and fly a couple of victory laps before directing her instructions towards the 'unlucky' Keeper. "Remember: No flacking, Talbot! Keep those limbs of out the goals!"

The team had been practising all afternoon despite the murky weather which now had turned into quite the rainstorm. Within an hour, it had everybody drenched to the bone despite the use of an extensive Impervius Charm.

From her vantage point above the pitch, Ginny watched as each team member gnashed their teeth together and rallied through, doing an impressive job trying to steer their brooms against Mother Nature herself when she was at her most playful and merciless. Hair clung to their faces while they clutched their broomsticks in order not to be blown off when twisting in and out between opponents or during any particularly steep downward or curved dive. For a while there, Ginny was seriously considering calling the training off, seeing them pushing themselves to their limits and already looking exhausted, but then she reminded herself that braving the weather was also a part of the training since matches were not usually cancelled simply because of a chance of heavy rain or even storm. Call it unfair or not, but the students of Hogwarts had been put through worse, and she knew her team with an almost maternal instinct. Several of them had experienced and even participated in the Battle of Hogwarts. They braved every challenge she threw at them with the same mix of initial teenaged grumpiness and exhaustion and eventual stubborn, sporting spirit. Each of them wanted to be the best or, more importantly, to beat the opposite teams. They were far from quitters and she was proud of them.

She remembered such training days herself, back when she'd just joined Quidditch and how shattered, exhilarated and happy she had been, despite feeling like she had just been trampled upon by ten dragons. But it was a good burn, a joyous feeling; to see everyone's sweaty and animated faces afterwards, to feel the occasional clap on the shoulder and share a laugh out of sheer tiredness or losing frustration... well, it was worth it. Every time.

A sense of bittersweet nostalgia filled her. Once again, it seemed so long ago now. As if she looked back on an entirely different version of herself. Someone she either needed to rediscover or leave behind –

Whoosh!

A Bludger hurtling past her head snapped her out of her musings, sending her heart palpitating, and she immediately focused in on the game, instinctively calling out the Beater whom she knew had made the blunder.

"McNeill! Lose that arm! You want to confuse the opponent when you backbeat, not hit the Bludger out of the bloody pitch!"

Unsure whether the Beater had gotten the message through the howls of the wind and the lashing rain, Ginny drifted down through the unfolding game towards McNeill who had momentarily frozen in his place, staring down at his bat before looking up in confusion.

She was about to open her mouth but frowned when his expression changed into one of dread and he gave a frantic wave in her direction, pointing somewhere beyond her head.

"Watch out, Capt'n!"

A rush of air behind her and she instinctively ducked, narrowly escaping the howling Bludger smashing into her head for a second time.

What the–?

She tried spotting the high-speed Bludger but even her trained eye couldn't keep track of its rogue behaviour in the midst of the curtains of heavy rain whipping in her face. Through the storm and the confusion, the other players must have realized something was wrong as well and had stopped the game, trying to decipher what was happening.

There was a jarring sound on her right and she swung left and backwards, dodging the Bludger again.

Really?! Ginny clamoured inwardly. This again? She recalled her first year when Harry had been made a similar target during a Quidditch match, thanks to the misguided intentions of a House Elf trying to protect him. However, this one didn't seem like the workings of a House Elf's efforts to 'simply hurt' in order to save.

No. This one seemed to have the intent to kill.

To kill her, more specifically.

An unbidden chill ran down her sweat- and rain-soaked back, her stomach turning in trepidation and battle instincts setting in.

She whirled her broom around to try and interpret the next move of that bloody thing, withdrawing her wand from her uniform holster and sending a Periculum above her head. In the exact same second, a lightening split the sky and the first bout of thunder threatened the air around them. From the momentary flash she saw the iron ball curve in the distance, through the murky clouds, and start to fly inwards towards the pitch, smashing through one of the stands as if it was made out of toothpicks.

"Get down!" She cried to the nearby team members, aiming her wand at the fast-approaching Bludger. "Finite!" The object of her aim didn't react to the Counter-Spell and advanced on her with a speed that took her by surprise as another lightning struck the sky, thunderclap rolling in its wake. She swerved her broom to the side then flew upwards to draw the fight away from the lower part of the pitch.

"Stay out of sight!" She barked in the approximate direction of the others, having lost track of their positions in the misty dark bearing down on them and hoping they'd already had the sense to do so. Despite the risks of flying high above ground during a thunderstorm, she couldn't risk her team either and feared accidentally hitting them with a spell when trying to aim at the unpredictable Bludger.

Where the bloody hell are the Aurors?!

The ball sailed past her once again, too close, and she reared her head to the side, the rain stinging her already frozen cheeks, before she spun around and proceeded to throw spells at its tail, feeling like she was aiming in blind. "Expulso! Confringo! Bombarda!"

None of them hit home and the Bludger disappeared from sight again.

"Fuck!" she growled, urging her broom forward and hovering within the upper edge of the pitch. Desperately narrowing her eyes to try and get a clearer vision of her fuzzy, deafening surroundings she contemplated how to deal with the unruly Bludger somewhere in the mist. Despite awaiting and hoping for the snap arrival of the Aurors (who were still oddly remiss), she wasn't keen on the fact that they were likely just as blinded by the weather as she was, making both parties white rabbits in a snow storm and unfortunate targets of any aimless spells sent in either direction. Should she just keep on throwing seemingly ineffective curses at the hexed ball, in that case? Or let it chase her, dodging it until they arrived? Either way was a risk.

She blasted another Periculum into the racketing sky above to make her position known to whomever should be nearby, just as the cursed Bludger came out of nowhere and hurtled itself towards her for the umpteenth time. Again, thanks to the adrenaline now coursing in her veins, sharpening her battle senses, she managed to duck, gritting her teeth in frustration when the undeterred iron ball as a result crashed through another stand, the one behind her.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck–

How long could she keep this going?

A panicked thought of being robbed the opportunity to play on the school grounds for the rest of the school year as a result of this flicked through her mind.

No. Fuck this!

She back-flipped her broom, twirled and dived in the opposite direction, rushing down towards the lower part of the pitch along the sides of the stands, heading right towards the charging Bludger coming down the far end of the pitch where McNeill was still standing, frozen in his spot.

If she couldn't stop it with spells, she could at least slow it down by letting it hit its 'target'.

Shakily, she rose up on her broom, knees bent and boots slipping to crouch on the wet broomstick, rain hitting her in the face, she grimaced, eyes trained on the incoming iron ball, and the ball only, approaching with an unnerving speed and purposefulness.

She was ready to jump at any second now –

There was shouting behind her – sounding like foreign words in her ears – and instinctively, she reared her broom upwards to slow it down just as the Bludger exploded mere feet from her.

The unknown spell had come out of nowhere and Ginny whipped her head around, misty rain for a second obstructing her vision before her eyes landed on the sole figure in the middle of the court, wand still raised.

Warwick.

The Auror was visibly panting and Ginny surmised she must have rushed to get here in time like the rest of the Aurors who now descended upon the field.

And what a timing!

Out of breath, Ginny blearily landed on the ground, legs soaked through and shaking under her. Her chest rattled as she inhaled gulps of the humid air around her, gasping in the process. Blinking out raindrops, she looked towards the sooty spot of dust where the Bludger had been only seconds ago, feeling the adrenalin still pumping good and steady.

What, in Circe's name, just happened?

Casting an assessing eye around her team on the ground, presently being consoled by Aurors, she spotted McNeill standing by himself, staring dazedly ahead. Rain was dripping from his pale brow and long nose (a somewhat unfortunate asset for a Beater) and he must have sensed her attention as he looked around and met her gaze, exhausted and relieved.

"Ta', Capt'n," he saluted, loud enough for her to hear.

Yeah, you and me both, mate, she breathed to herself, wiping a forearm across her own brow. The rain had now shifted into a dense drizzle, the storm still simmering and rumbling with dark intentions over their heads. It was far from finished with them.

"You alright?" said a voice behind her and Ginny turned her head to see Warwick approaching. "Sorry about the late call," the Auror stated monotonously as she came to a halt, her face hard and focused and Ginny was once again reminded of the seriousness of the situation. "The posted Aurors were called away for an emergency situation nearby during the time of your game which then proved to be a false alarm. Professor Zelenko alerted us to the hexed Bludger." Her fierce expression betrayed nothing but a small tension around the mouth that told Ginny the Auror wasn't under any spell regarding the otherwise popular, charming Professor.

She was about to open her mouth in reply when Zelenko himself appeared between them, having likely heard his name mentioned. He drove a tanned hand through his dark, moist hair, emitting an exaggerated sigh of relief as if he too had been greatly rattled by the incident and a little too self-congratulatory about his own role in intervening.

"You're very welcome, Miss Weasley. I happened to be watching your training today – and fortunately so, it seemed!"

Ginny frowned. She wondered why he'd chosen this day of all days to come and watch them training. Usually, they didn't have spectators during these kinds of days, despite using the Stadium and not the Training pitch, and especially not during bad weather. The fact that it was him combined with the unusual appearance of a hexed Bludger made the 'coincidence' all the more suspicious.

"Well, then, I guess I should thank you, Sir." She barely withheld the sarcasm from her voice, and for a second Zelenko seemed slightly befuddled by her tone before quickly gaining his footing again.

"I see you haven't lost your fighting spirit. Good to know," he deflected jovially. Beside him, Warwick still kept a straight face but she wasn't entirely indifferent to the conversation and Ginny silently wondered what she was thinking.

Zelenko cleared his throat and the awkward moment stretched. Ginny merely gazed coolly back at him, waiting.

"Well, I'd better go check on the rest of the team. Can't have my students walking around traumatized, can we now?" He gave a small, forced laugh, making Ginny want to pull a face. She felt something close to protectiveness at his phrasing. As if this was really a joking matter! As if it was actually his students before her team! She knew she wasn't exactly fair in her reasoning, but she couldn't help herself at the moment.

Glancing briefly between them with an irritatingly insipid smile, as if he had done his part and they were the ones to clean up the mess, literally and figuratively, he dusted himself off and walked on. Warwick and Ginny eyed him as he left.

Ginny shot another look at the other woman's face, confirming what she already suspected: Warwick indeed seemed wary of the bloke. But, then again, wasn't she a little bit with everybody? Wasn't that just part of the job for a seasoned Auror?

"You don't trust him, do you?" she chanced asking.

The statuesque Auror shifted her eyes to Ginny, sharp and observant, before finally responding, "I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."

Ginny's mouth twitched and her voice lowered, daring a little further, "And I bet you could throw him quite far. If you wanted to, that is."

Warwick surveyed her for a second though she seemed neither offended nor lost on the small joke. Surprising Ginny, she instead looked down as if to hide the minuscule, downwards pull by the corner of her mouth. "I certainly would like to try. If the chance came, that is."

A small snort got stuck in Ginny's throat when, right in that moment, the subject in question walked past them again, and for all Warwick's unmoving features, her dark, hard eyes exuded a mischievous sparkle.

Ginny realized she might have been sorely mistaken in her first impression of the Auror's brusque persona. Or, rather, thought her tough and unyielding in the same cumbersome way Rowe was stubborn and suspicious. And despite Warwick's rather frank report at McGonagall's office, Ginny respected her to stand by her principles. Oddly enough, she felt she could rely on the female Auror. Maybe she could even voice some of her faint suspicions about Zelenko to her and actually be taken seriously, given Warwick's own apprehension towards him?

"How –" Ginny started and then, feeling Warwick's rapt attention on her face, chickened out, instead going with, "How will this affect the continued permission to play Quidditch?" She hardly dared look up and see the answer written all over the Auror's face.

"I cannot rightly say," the older woman replied, cadence rolling solemnly. "The executive order is out of my hands, but there will be repercussions from this incident. Further restrictions or redoubled supervision, no doubt."

It was the bittersweet truth and Ginny grimaced, knowing having Quidditch banned was the least ramification that could come from all this. With what had occurred just within this school year, she felt resigned to adapt to every restriction and reprimand sent her way. Well, not just her way. Besides, anything was a step up from the Carrow's 'executive orders' the previous year. She shuddered slightly at the memories. After all, McGonagall was steadfast and merciful in her principles. The Scotswoman would stand up to Rowe (as she had already proven) and the entire Auror department included, if necessary.

And, somewhere, deep down, Ginny knew Harry, Ron and Neville would too. No matter the cost of their newly-held positions in the department.

She was sure of it.

"Well," Warwick reflected, drawing Ginny's attention again as she surveyed their surroundings, "I guess I better check up on the situation and get back to the chief as quickly as possible. He'll need a rapport." Her shrewd eyes returned to Ginny, giving her another once-over that made Ginny feel quite transparent. However, there was nothing outright suspicious to be found in the dark orbs, only professional concern. "You're sure you're alright and in one piece?"

"Quite," Ginny nodded hurriedly.

Warwick lingered a second longer, not quite convinced, but then gave an affirmative nod and moved towards the rest of the Aurors. Apparently, Ginny's team mates had sought shelter in the locker rooms, in the meantime.

Sighing, feeling the oppressive weather had taken symbolic residence upon her chest after recent days' events, she picked up her broom and trudged towards the locker rooms as well.

So much for getting back up on the broom again.