Invisible String - Sebastian Sallow

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Warning from Ominis Gaunt

"Malfoy, if you don't stop throwing your bat every time you miss that Bludger, I'm going to bash your head in with it!"

Imelda's loud voice was full of frustration as she soared across the pitch towards the platinum blonde wizard. Ignotis Malfoy had gotten frustrated as he'd missed yet another easy blow with his Beaters club and launched his club across the field, narrowly missing Nerida as she pursued the snitch.

"If this damn club was longer, I could hit it every time!" He shouted back to her as he recovered the club from Arcturus Black, who'd caught it.

"I don't remember you having a longer club during tryouts. Abbi, do you remember giving him a longer club?"

"No, I don't," I said, annoyed. This was the third time he'd used this excuse in a practice this weekend alone, and tensions were running high with the first match of the season just two weeks away. Gryffindor versus Slytherin; a rivalry that went all the way back to the founders themselves. Imelda had made it clear to the entire team that this game was more important to her than the House Cup, and that anyone who cost her this win would be replaced.

Pressure was mounting and it was taking its toll. Malfoy glared at the both of us, but I glared back. "Got something to say, Malfoy?"

"No," he snapped back to me.

"Good, now hit the damn Bludger so we can go to dinner!" I shouted as I took off back up the end of the pitch, spotting a few Slytherin first years in the stands. I really needed to talk to Imelda about closed practices on weeknights.

Shifting my broom slightly under my finger tips, I took in a deep breath, focusing on the play Imelda was drilling into us. Garreth Weasley, captain of the Gryffindor House Quidditch team was very fond of having his players spread out over the pitch, flying without any formations and instilling chaos; typical of Gryffindor personalities. While this was good for maximum ground coverage, it lacked in ability to communicate with your team members.

To remedy this, Imelda was drilling us on what she had named the Split Snake; a maneuver that started one beater and one chaser, Imelda and Percival Flint together, weaving in line with myself, Arcturus and Ignotis. The idea was to keep us Chasers protected and weave our way to the goal post, allowing us to snake around the goals, catch the Quaffle as it goes through, throw it to the next chaser and score thirty points in quick succession.

We'd nearly perfected every other aspect, aside from Malfoy leaving me wide open to Bludger after Bludger. My skin was bound to be covered in bruises, and my left side ached. I was ready to be done with this training session.

Imelda held up the Quaffle, her silver whistle blasting twice sharply through the air, and I took off, flanked on either side by Malfoy and Black. Wind whipped through my hair, throwing it out behind me as I shot across the pitch. The sensation brought me immense pleasure; flying fast through the hamlets and mountains around Hogwarts had always been one of my favorite things to do.

Halfway up, we met Imelda and Flint, and immediately we fell into formation. Imelda in the front, Arcturus in the middle, myself bringing up the rear as we shot across the pitch, the sound of Beaters clubs filling our ears as Malfoy and Flint battered Bludgers away from us.

The three large hoops looked just ahead and I split off from the formation, circling the sides of the stands to come up behind the hoops, being sure to mind how close I got. If I got within five feet of the hoop, it would be a foul, and Imelda would ring my neck.

Keeping myself positioned on my broom, I waited for the Quaffle to soar through the tallest hoop. Imelda threw it forcefully, and immediately I caught it, swooping around to the front side as Arcturus replaced me. Imelda had shot off down to the other end of the pitch in an attempt to lure the Bludgers away from me.