The Art of Dying - R. Black

forty five

May 26th, 1979

I can hear the quidditch pitch filling up from outside the locker room door. People are talking loudly as they find seats in the stands.

The sun was shining bright outside, the weather warm, but not too hot. The entire castle was buzzing over today's match.

Marlene couldn't make it today. Apparently she's on a mission this week and she wouldn't be able to make it, but that's all she told me. She wished me luck and told me to kick arse.

Our team stands in a huddle, all of us having our arms draped across each other's shoulders.

It's the last match of the season, which means that it's my last match. Ever.

Jack had gotten an offer from the Montrose Magpies, and he was supposed to start training to be their Keeper in August. They had approached him after our last match against Ravenclaw and offered him a spot on their team.

"Not only is this match for the quidditch cup, it's also the last match for half of our team," Jack announced in his 'coach' voice. "So we are going out there and we are going to kick Slytherin's arse! You got that?"

The whole team cheers out, our voices echoing throughout the locker room.

"I can't hear you!"

We all cheer louder, making Jack grin.

"Every single one of you is going to go out there and give it your all. We're going to win this shit!" Jack continued. "And then, we'll celebrate."

We all cheered out again.

"Okay, hands in!"

We do our silly little chant, all raising our hands in the air before we break out of our huddle. It was stupid, but it was a rite of passage. It had been passed on to Frank Longbottom, who had passed it on to James Potter, who had passed it on to Jack. And it would be passed on to the next captain.

Our team leaves the locker room just as Slytherin left their locker room right next to us.

I make eye contact with Regulus, and he winks at me before leading his team to their side of the pitch. Evan is right at his side, wearing a smug look on his face.

We take our spots, waiting to be introduced.

"WELCOME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, TO THE FINAL MATCH OF THE YEAR!" Rory Mitchell's voice bellows. "GOING UP FOR THE CUP WE HAVE SLYTHERIN, WITH CAPTAIN REGULUS BLACK!"

The Slytherin quidditch team walks onto the pitch, brooms held tightly, chins raised to the crowd. Regulus was in the front, a small smirk on his face as the crowd cheered for them.

Cocky bastard.

"VERSUS GRYFFINDOR, WITH CAPTAIN JACK TROUCHE!'

The crowd cheered even louder as we walked onto the pitch.

It was melancholic.

On one hand, this was the last time I would ever be experiencing this, the last time I would be playing in front of a crowd. On the other hand, it just meant that I was starting a new chapter in my life. A fucking terrfiying new chapter.

Our teams lined up to face each other.

I somehow ended up facing Evan, Regulus standing to his left side. Evan grinned at me. "May the best beater win, McKinnon," He whispered.

I smiled, "We'll have to wait and see, Rosier."

Madam Hooch stood between Jack and Regulus, both of whom were staring the other down. It looked like they were about one snarky comment away from punches being thrown.