Starry Serendipity || R.A.B

13. Valerie and quidditch

November 1975

The night's haunting dreams cling to my thoughts like shadows, refusing to let go even as the morning light filters into the room. My eyelids flutter open, and I'm met with the unwelcome embrace of a pounding headache that reverberates through my skull. The combined effects of the alcohol from last night and the unsettling nightmares have left me feeling disoriented and exhausted.

With a groan, I reach out to the bedside table, my fingers fumbling for a glass of water. Each movement feels like an effort, and I take slow sips to soothe my dry throat. The sunlight filtering through the window offers a stark contrast to the darkness that had filled my dreams.

As I lie there, I attempt to shake off the remnants of the nightmares that still linger. Images of chaos, battles, and the faces of those I care about consumed by fear and danger play like a relentless loop in my mind. It's a reminder of the looming threat that hovers over our world, a reality that even the halls of Hogwarts can't shield us from.

I push myself up, my head swimming as I swing my legs over the side of the bed. The room seems to spin for a moment, and I take a deep breath, willing myself to steady my racing thoughts. I can't afford to let the weight of those nightmares drag me down – there's too much at stake, too many challenges ahead.

After a few moments, the dizziness subsides, and I slowly rise to my feet. The mirror on the wall reflects a face that's pale, the weariness evident in my eyes. I splash cold water on my face, hoping to chase away both the remnants of the alcohol-induced fog and the lingering shadows of my dreams.

As the realization dawns on me, my heart sinks like a stone. Of all the days for a Quidditch match – it had to be today. A dull throb pulses in my temples, reminding me of the unrelenting headache that has settled in after last night's escapades. But there's more at stake than just a pounding head – there's my brother's excitement and anticipation for the match, his unspoken hope that I'll be there cheering him on.

Dragging myself out of bed, I cast a resentful glance at the sun streaming through the window. The bright morning seems to mock my predicament, and I can't help but curse my poor timing. Quidditch matches are always a big deal, a spectacle that draws students from all houses to the stands, united in their support for their teams.

I groan inwardly as I remember James's enthusiasm the previous night, his animated descriptions of the strategies they've been working on and his determination to lead Gryffindor to victory. He had looked at me with an expectant grin, his unspoken plea clear – he wanted me there, on his side, cheering for him.

Resigning myself to my fate, I start the process of getting ready for the day. The simple act of changing into my robes feels like a monumental effort, but the thought of disappointing James propels me forward. I splash cold water on my face once again, hoping it will chase away the remnants of both the headache and the nightmares.

As I step out into the corridors, the buzz of excitement is palpable. Students are chatting animatedly, their faces painted with house colors, their banners and scarves fluttering in the breeze. It's a carnival of anticipation, and even as my head throbs, I can't help but be swept up in the atmosphere.

The Great Hall bustles with activity as students gather for breakfast. The clinking of plates and the murmur of conversation fill the air, creating a lively atmosphere. I find myself amidst the sea of faces, a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. Despite my throbbing head, I force a small smile and offer a cheer for the Gryffindor team as they head off to the Quidditch match. My voice blends with the cacophony of cheers, though secretly, I long for a quiet corner where I could nurse my headache in peace.