Scratches (Fred Weasley)

(7) Quidditch Season

Sirius Black was the talk of the whole castle for a whole week—possibly more, Florence noticing the changes that were brought upon his damage to the Fat Lady's portrait. Curfew had been, if possible, stricter than ever. Even the prefects were relieved of their patrolling duties, the teachers doing the patrolling during midnight. Madame Hooch stayed at the pitch whenever someone was using it. But they all had seemed to be prioritizing one person, which was Harry Potter.

Aside from Sirius Black, Alexander and Nicolai had noticed an odd sort of change in Florence's behaviour. Whenever they were to attend to Transfiguration, fifteen minutes early, she would almost always make a beeline for the back of the room. She had been writing back and fourth on the desk to the mystery person, each day their messages on the surface of the wooden table got longer and longer.

Fred also found Transfiguration something that he would greatly look forward to, writing keenly to the mystery person that he grew fond of. George found it strange, always asking Fred as to how he was sure that he wasn't writing to anyone but a girl.

"I just do, dear brother..." he said, dusting off the message that he had freshly carved on the right edge of the wooden desk. He and the mystery person, after a few message exchanges had miraculously ended up talking about the different Quidditch teams.

'The Holyheads are a great bunch. How do you perceive The Chudley Cannons? My brother likes them but I personally think that they should call their career off'

To which Florence replied to,

'I agree. Also, you could be a dear brother and buy him a pair of glasses. Eyesight could still be corrected, you know.'

The Ravenclaw Quidditch team had let the Gryffindors extend their booking on that lovely-weathered Friday afternoon. Oliver practically begged Roger for an extra hour, which he granted generously, considering the fact that Wood's team was going to be playing against Diggory's Hufflepuff team the following day.

Florence sat patiently on the stands in her complete uniform, watching the mock games that they were currently practicing. Potter looked undeniably swift in his dazzling Nimbus 2000, everyone in the team looking down subconsciously at their rickety school brooms, however, Chang kept faith that her Comet 260 was enough of a match to the high end broom that the Gryffindor seeker owned.

Fred and George, as much as Florence hated to admit it, were in sync, beating anything that came to their teammates' way. Their chasers were speedy too, "But not as speedy as us," whispered Roger cockily as he watched the Chasers intently. "Angelina has a bad left arm. Have you noticed?"

"And you have a bad arm when it comes to long range." she reminded the Captain, who rolled his eyes at her, before laughing. "I do not."

"You most certainly do. Which explains why Jeremy and I have to wait for you at the goalposts."

"Okay, fine. I do have a bad arm in long range."

The Gryffindors had wrapped everything up as it neared sundown, Roger calling off the practices per Madame Hooch's suggestion. None of them were agitated at this decision, mutually deciding that it was alright and that they could practice some other time.

Even Inglebee took it rather well enough, not flying off the handle like the last time.

Oliver had some sort of confident and pleasant expression on his face as he gave one last encouraging speech to his teammates, Florence descending from the stands as they did their group huddle.