Loyal | Tom Riddle

15: Odd Encounters

The next week crept by slowly, as if the hands of time had worn down simply for the purpose of drawing out the dwindling number of days left until holidays began. Every minute felt like an hour, and every hour, a day. Spirits plummeted rather quickly, despite the cheery Christmas decorations that brightened the corridors and the baubles that floated alongside the candles of the Great Hall's ceiling, where perpetual flurries of white fell.

Glumly, Arabella sat herself next to her quidditch teammates, who were chattering amongst themselves animatedly. Their practises had been rather lacklustre because of the inclement weather, but their excitement was building for Gryffindor's first match of the season (which had been delayed a month due to the threat of the warplanes that now seemed a constant presence in the sky).

"I reckon that we'll win," boasted Callan McGregor, a talented Chaser from Ireland with dashing good looks.

"But we haven't got John," Thomas Blackbladder, a burly Beater, pointed out.

Evelyn Prosecco frowned. She was a slight girl that played Seeker, rather resembling a hawk with her hooked nose, piercing tawny eyes, and thin lips. "And Penny Gregors in goal just doesn't seem right to me."

At this, the fourth-year girl's brow furrowed as she let out a noise of protest. "I'm all right! What's your prob--"

"Enough!" bellowed Henry Cahill, the captain. Silence fell across the table, with every person's gaze latching onto the wild look in his eyes and his clenched jaw. "We're down a man, I know, but bickering like this won't do anything to help us beat Slytherin tomorrow!"

Arabella sighed, resting her chin on her elbow as she lazily dug into her plate of bacon and scrambled eggs. No matter where or when, the team always happened to be having an internal meltdown of some sorts. First, it was John leaving Hogwarts -- then it was the other Beater, Paul Duggar, and his broken leg -- the search for a keeper, where not even a semi-decent one tried out -- the tension between Penny and Evelyn... it was all too much to handle, so Arabella simply ignored it.

Distracted, she noticed something odd at the Slytherin table. It seemed as if Orion Black had received something by owl post, something shaped suspiciously like a new broom.

"It's a Shooting Star!" a voice cried out in excitement, interrupting the stern talking-to being delivered by Cahill to his team.

"Black's got a Shooting Star!"

"It's only the newest broom there is! The fastest!"

"Look at its handle -- polished oak, I think I might die of jealousy."

Arabella was jerked back to reality by Henry slamming his fist into the table top, desperately trying to regain his side's attention.

"Listen up, you lot!" he roared.

Instantly, all six pairs of eyes glued onto his strong, chiseled features.

"It doesn't matter what Black's got," Cahill growled, "because he's a rich prat who can hardly ever catch the Snitch. Surely, the best broom money can buy will do nothing to change this..."

He droned on and on, lulling Arabella into a sort of deep sleep.

Rain lashed against the windows mercilessly, threatening to shatter the glass and coat the room with water. A lone figure sat hunched before a fireplace, struggling to keep warm.