Everywhere, Everything

xvii. Bad, Worse, Worst

    Harry was glad the mystery of Nicolas Flamel was over (for now), since he didn't think he'd be able to have more research sessions for a while thanks to the fact that Hallie Jones had announced a few days before classes resumed that the team would be getting started on Quidditch practice again.

    Tigerlily shared an excited grin with Oliver from across the common room when they heard her. The arrangement had been made so that after the Gryffindors finished their usual practice, Oliver and Tigerlily would hang back and wait until the team was gone so they could have the pitch all for themselves. Throughout the team's practices, Tigerlily buzzed with excitement and cheered for the slightest maneuvers, her mind racing with the thought of being on a broom herself not too long after them.

    Hallie became a perfectionist over their break, it seemed. Already fully recovered from her concussion and well rested after going home, she was making the team run their drills over and over again until they got it just right. It was raining a lot more now, and though that might sound like better conditions to fly in than snow, the relentless downpours were not easy to practice (much less play) through. However, Hallie didn't seem to care. She sniffled and shouted orders, spitting out the rainwater afterwards, her uniform drenched.

    Tigerlily was the same. Through rain and thunderstorms, she stood in the Gryffindor stands, giving the team their much needed and deserved moral support. She caught a few colds every now and then but she felt like it was worth it. If they won their next match against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the House Championship for the first time in seven years.

    But when Hallie dismissed the team from practice, Oliver and Tigerlily would stay in the changing rooms, pretending to be really engrossed in conversation to avoid any suspicion from the others. Once they were gone, Tigerlily and Oliver would take to the cloudy sky and get started. Oliver had her doing some pretty simple things like flying drills from one end of the pitch to the other and doing passes in midair at high speeds. They practiced Tigerlily's aim, which wasn't too bad (even though Oliver was going easy on her since he could have very well stopped all her Quaffles).

    The following day, the two of them would show up to Gryffindor practice like nothing had happened. Tigerlily somehow managed to keep her mouth shut and keep their training arrangement a secret, but the shift in her mood was evident to all. She was a lot brighter and cheerful now that she had something to look forward to each afternoon. However, one thing just had to get her stomach twisting with worry. During one particularly muddy and wet practice, Hallie let her team know that Snape would be refereeing their next game. The team was outraged, and so was Tigerlily. She knew he wouldn't be fair.

    After those awful news, the team began a heated conversation amongst themselves, but Harry and Tigerlily headed straight back to Gryffindor Tower, not exchanging one word on the way up, their shoulders brushing against each other. The thought of Snape refereeing was so bad it made Tigerlily forget all about her training and her usual desire to talk to Harry at any chance she got. Once the two of them had made it back to the common room, they found Ron and Hermione playing chess.

    "Don't talk to me for a moment," said Ron when Harry sat down next to him, "I need to concen —" he caught sight of Harry's face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

    Speaking quietly so that no one else would hear, Harry told their friends about Snape's sudden, sinister desire to be a Quidditch referee. Tigerlily was quietly fuming from her chair, getting increasingly worked up by her damp clothes and hair.

    "Don't play." Hermione said at once after hearing the news.

    "Say you're ill." Said Ron.

    "Pretend you broke your leg."

    "Really break your leg."

    "I can't." said Harry, sighing. "There isn't a reserve Seeker this year. If I back out, Gryffindor can't play at all."

    Tigerlily pursed her lips. She wanted the team to do good, but she worried playing with Snape as a referee would interfere with those plans. Especially because of that stupid grudge he seemed to be holding against Harry.

    Suddenly, Neville toppled into the common room, disrupting the negative spiral of thoughts in Tigerlily's head. His legs appeared to be stuck together with what Hermione recognized at once as the Leg-Locker Curse. How he'd even managed to get all the way up Gryffindor Tower like that was a mystery. Everyone who saw him trip fell over laughing except for Hermione and Tigerlily, who leapt up from their seats and performed the countercurse and helped him get up, respectively. Neville, though steady on his feet, was trembling.

    "What happened?" Tigerlily asked him, leading him over to sit with Harry and Ron with a concerned frown on her face. Her eyes scanned over him rapidly, inspecting for any injuries.

    "Malfoy." Neville explained shakily. "I met him outside the library. He said he'd been looking for someone to practice that on."

    "Go to Professor McGonagall!" Hermione urged him right away. "Report him!"

    Screw reporting him, Tigerlily thought. I'll punch that git.

    Neville shook his head. "I don't want more trouble."

    Well, there goes that idea.

    "You've got to stand up to him, Neville!" Ron told him, immediately enraged though he wasn't that close to Neville. Really, his anger came from a years-long disdain for the blond boy. "He's used to walking all over people, but that's no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier."

    "Ron — " Tigerlily scolded, her frown deepening as she looked at the redhead.

    "There's no need to tell me I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy's already done that." Neville choked out.

    "No, Neville, hey," Tigerlily said softly, shaking her head. "Listen. You're plenty brave, yeah? Who cares what some dimwit like Malfoy thinks. He's far too out of touch."

    "You're worth twelve of Malfoy." Harry assured the sniffling boy with a small smile, backing up Tigerlily's words. "The Sorting Hat chose you for Gryffindor, didn't it? And where's Malfoy? In stinking Slytherin."

    Neville's lips twitched in a weak smile as he took a deep breath and stood up.

    "Thanks, guys...I think I'll go to bed..." he told them before disappearing up the stairs.

    Tigerlily watched him leave, feeling her heart sinking further and further as she recognized the defeated slump in Neville's shoulders. The sight only added fuel to the fire of very unhappy emotions she'd been feeling throughout the day. Gryffindor has to win. They will win, she told herself. That'll teach them.