THE POTIONEER | hermione granger

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE POTIONEER | 1.11
"WE MAY HAVE HIT A NERVE"
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland | 1993

SO, LIZZIE WAS UPSET.

That seemed fair to say. She had been awake since four in the morning, polishing her beater skills since six and dealing with the wind, rain, thunder and lightning since seven. Cedric had been pushing the team harder and faster as the morning pushed on, the weather growing harsher and the conditions becoming worse. Lizzie could barely see five feet in front of her as she flew through the air, checking down at her rain spattered watch to find the big hand ticking past ten o'clock. It was nearly time for the game to start.

As if he had realised it too, Cedric placed his fingers in his mouth above the centre of the pitch, whistling sharply. It barely reached Lizzie's ears as the thunder rumbled around her, but luckily, she had been looking over at him anyway. He waved his arms around and the rest of the team hurried to drift back down to the ground, shoes slamming down into muddy puddles. They all sprinted into the yellow tent on one side of the pitch, glad to be out of the weather, but it still blew around the curtains, threatening to rip it to shreds.

Lizzie had learnt the names of every single person on the Hufflepuff team that morning, mostly from staring at the backs of their yellow and black striped shirts, each of them looking like bumblebees flying through the storm, with their surnames emblazoned on the fabric. In her head, she went through a thread; Preece, Macavoy, Applebee, Rickett, Fleet. Of course, she knew Cedric, even as he sped through the rain at sixty miles per hour, barely a blur in her peripheral. Although she had been trying her hardest to keep up her game for the morning's match, but every time she slipped, it was like the rest of them were expecting it. Like she was some weird first year that was put on the team out of pity, not a third year who was chosen by Cedric for her specific talent.