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SEVEN SLYTHERIN
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"OR PERHAPS IN SLYTHERIN," she remembers the words of the Sorting Hat, the same melody about the houses that it sings before the annual Sorting. "You'll make your real friends... These cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends."
Holly keeps the words of the Sorting Hat in mind as she makes her way down to the Quidditch pitch on Friday evening, wearing her Slytherin scarf half because she's cold, and half because she wants to show as much house pride as humanly possible. There was already talk when she became the captain, how she's not only going out with the Gryffindor captain, but with Harry, the boy most of her house dislike greatly — she knows this, and she's chosen to keep her head up high about it.
But she remembers the Triwizard Tournament, how the adults refused to believe that she was old enough to be a worthy competitor. How her entire house was ecstatic at the idea of them finally having glory. Holly's done it before, and she'll do it again. She'll bring Slytherins the glory they deserve.
And if they're still hung up about her being madly in love with Harry? Well, she thinks they'll shut up the instant her team wins the first match of the season.
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FLO DOESN'T EXACTLY feel nervous as she walks down to the Quidditch pitch, her hands holding tightly onto her broomstick. She's overheard Lippincott's plans about the team — she feels as if the entire house has, considering the amount of times Lippincott's been saying the phrase 'new and improved.' She supposes Lippincott's excited. Must be a boring life when you're shagging the Boy Who Lived.
So she stands to the side of the cluster of Slytherins. All years are standing around, in the Quidditch outfits their mummies and daddies carefully washed just before the summer ended. Shockingly there's a couple First Years... But, of course, in true Slytherin fashion, they look just as collected as the Seventh Years at the side of the group.
Lippincott arrives after a few minutes, a smile on her face. The talking amongst the other Slytherins dies down, but before it properly does, someone hisses, 'Potter probably made her late,' and whispers some euphemism for something that Flo feels genuinely disgusted at. She then hears the person grunt in pain, and she looks back. Capote must've hit him.
"OK, so, you most likely know that I wanted to drastically improve the image and the quality of our house's Quidditch team," says Lippincott, raising her voice for everyone to hear. "I know for a fact that our team's always focused on brute force — but I personally find this ironic. We're meant to be cunning, aren't we? Out of all of the teams, shouldn't we be the ones that are sly, that are powerful, that show ambition to become greater than the other teams? Why are we the ones that had a team of players preferring strength to tact?"
