𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 • 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺

Quidditch

Y/n Pov:

As we entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy grey and the lake was like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots. 

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen me play because Davies had decided that, as their secret weapon, I should be kept, well, secret. But the news that I was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and I don't know which was worse — people telling me I'd be brilliant or people telling me they'd be running around underneath me holding a mattress. 

It was really lucky that Harry and I now had Hermione as a friend. Due to practice, we couldn't have gotten through all the homework without her. She had also lent us each a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. Not only that, but it also felt nice to have another girl in the group.

I learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since we had saved her from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harry's first Quidditch match the six of us were out in the freezing courtyard during break time, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. We were standing with our backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard, who was limping. We moved closer together to block the fire from view; which I was sure it wouldn't be allowed. Unfortunately, something about our guilty faces caught Snape's eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell us off anyway. 

"What's that you've got there, Potter?" 

Harry showed him his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. 

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," said Snape. "Give it to me. Five pointsfrom Gryffindor." 

"He's just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily as Snape limped away. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?" 

"Dunno, but I hope it's hurting him," I said bitterly.

~

That night, before curfew, I went for a walk. I always did, to clear myself from all the horrible thoughts. The chilly air hit my face and I was overjoyed by the feeling. I sat down, my back against the wall, took my poetry book out and started writing a poem about the wind. It went like this:

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you.
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I.
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

(A/N: I found this poem on google all the credit goes to Christina Rossetti (1830-1894))

I rested my head on the wall and closed my eyes. A sudden sound made my eyes open again. I found Harry running. I quickly got up and hid my poetry notebook inside my school robes.