xxx. quidditch

889 60 15
                                    

Over the last month, I hadn't given Ron a second glance; Hermione and Harry have tried to get me to talk to him, but I refused until he apologized. But besides my argument with Ron, the three of them managed to officially form the D.A.– Dumbledore's Army. Overall, the last month consisted of weird glances from Professor Snape, pleads from Hermione and Harry to talk to Ron, and secret meetings with Draco in the Astronomy Tower.

At least twice a week, Draco and I have met during our breaks or lunch hour to hang out in the tower. We spoke about nothing and overall enjoyed each other's company. The more we hung out, the more I believed Draco would stop his mean and conniving ways against my friends and others, but I was sorely mistaken.

It was the day of the first Quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. I wore a red Gryffindor sports shirt over my sweatshirt, with a large number seven in the front– for Harry, while Hermione wore one with a number one– for Ron.

But in the Quidditch Stand, I was disappointed. Slytherins wore a large silver crown-shaped pin that read: WEASLEY is our King. Picking up a box of them, I threw them in the trash and flicked off the Slytherin who was handing them out; but I was too late, almost the entire Slytherin house– along with other house members– wore the ugly badge.

"Ugly little badges..." Hermione muttered.

Both teams stood out of view from the crowd. Looking around, I couldn't find any sign of the Gryffindor team. Soon, the doors of the Quidditch pitch opened and out flew both teams. Cheered erupted all around the stands, most of them cheering for Slytherin. Hermione and I screamed as loud as we could for our team, jumping up and down.

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released out of the Quidditch box and the fourteen players shot upward. Harry hovered in the air while Ron zoomed off toward the goal hoops. Harry flew higher, dodging a Blunger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, looking for the Golden Snitch. On the other side of the stadium, Draco was doing exactly the same.

Lee Jordan commented on everything that went on in the stadium. The crowd yelled, booed, and sang a horrible song about Ron.

". . .and the crowd are loving this just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Weasley cannot save a thing,

He cannot block a single ring,

That's why Slytherins all sing:

Weasley is our King.

Weasley was born in a bin,

He always lets the Quaffle in,

Weasley will make sure we win,

Weasley is our King.

My blood boiled at the stupid song they sang about Ron. I was truly humming with fury. No matter how angry I was at him, I did not want Ron to be bullied by the slimy Slytherins.

"— and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, trying to drown out the sound of the singing. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah..."

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie. At Angelina's lost goal, the Slytherins started to sing louder.

Harry turned around and, instead of looking for the Snitch, he turned his Firebolt toward Ron as Warrington pelted towards him.

"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"

Lost MemoriesWhere stories live. Discover now