𝟏.| ✬ 𝒟ℯ𝒶𝓇 ℬ𝒾𝓁𝓁, ✬ {ℬ. 𝒲ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎}

\𝓃𝒾𝓃ℯ𝓉ℯℯ𝓃\

~𝓈𝓅𝓇𝒾𝓃𝓰 - 𝓈ℯ𝒸ℴ𝓃𝒹 𝓎ℯ𝒶𝓇 (𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌ℴ)~

The Quidditch cup match was the only thing that managed to take Eleanora's mind off of the news of her mother's engagement for a bit. In the locker room, Charlie gave them all a talk. "Listen up. For the next- um... however long the game is, nothing else is happening in your lives. I don't care about your classes, your drama, anything. I want you all focused. Slytherin's going to give us hell, and we're going to give them hell right back. For a lot of you, it's your last year on the team. Wood, Marks, you're the newest players, but when my year leaves, you'll be the main players. Now's your chance to prove yourselves. I think we've got a great team and a good chance of winning. Just stay focused." He started towards the door, and then turned to them, his eyes unusually bright. "Whatever happens, I'm so proud of all of you."

They marched out onto the field and the stands erupted with cheers. Boos echoed from the Slytherin section, but they were drowned out by everyone else. The captains shook hands and the two teams mounted their brooms. The whistle blew and the players kicked off. The Slytherins were out for blood from the very beginning. Oliver Wood was pelted with quaffle after quaffle, deflecting each one with concentrated skill. Eleanora worked with the other chasers, two sixth year boys, to keep the score even, but getting ahead would be much more difficult.

Charlie knew the only hope for winning the game was catching the snitch fast. He searched frantically, watching the fray from above. His teammates were doing fine, but their energy was running out fast. He saw a flash of gold. He dove. He could see that the Slytherin seeker had seen it too. He was close, his fingers almost brushing the golden ball.

It moved at the last second.

Charlie watched in horror as the Slytherin's seeker's hand closed around the golden snitch, his hand pumping in the air. Charlie let his head fall in disappointment. He'd tried so hard to prepare his team for the worst, and then he'd failed them. The whistle blew. The team landed together, dejected. The Slytherins were chanting, gloating about their second epic win against the Gryffindors.

"We'll get them next year," Eleanora said, wrapping an arm around Charlie.

David Jackson, one of the other chasers, limped over and put an arm around Charlie's other shoulder. "They played dirty, at least we weren't trying to kill anyone."

The team limped back to the locker room without saying much. After they'd changed, they all sat together in silence for a minute, letting themselves feel sorry for themselves. Then, Charlie stood up on a bench.

"Alright," he said softly. Everyone looked up at him. "So we lost. So the Slytherins played dirty and probably would've knocked us all off our brooms if we'd let them. But the important part is that we didn't. You all held your ground fantastically- better than I could've ever asked you to. This wasn't anyone's fault except for mine. We trained hard, we pushed ourselves, we had a great season. This game didn't feel right from the beginning, we all felt it." The team nodded. "But you held your ground. I've never been happier with a team, or prouder of a season." He let his face fall. "Now, I'm going to go sulk in the showers for awhile, and I suggest the rest of you get some rest and avoid the Slytherins for awhile. We'll get them back next year, I promise." He stepped off the bench and headed for the showers.