PRANKSTER [1] ↝ C. DIGGORY

twenty-one

"Go on, you lot." Oliver urged the Quidditch team that morning as they all sat together in the Great Hall for breakfast. "Eat up, you'll need it."

"Oliver, there's nothing on your plate." Clary pointed out. "You need to eat, too."

Oliver ignored the girl, instead looking over at the Slytherin table with a nervous expression, his leg anxiously bouncing up and down hundreds of times a minute. A few moments later he stood up and left the Great Hall, mumbling something about wanting to get to the Pitch early to scope out the weather.

"Today's the day!" Newt called out as Clary and Vasantha began to leave the Great Hall with the rest of the Quidditch team. "We believe in you!"

The team made their way out of the castle and down to the Quidditch Pitch surrounded by the applause of the other Hogwarts students, hailing from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The Slytherin students instead continued to jeer and yell insults at the ones dressed in red. When they arrived, they found Oliver pacing the Pitch already dressed in his Quidditch uniform and jotting down tiny notes onto a small piece of parchment. He looked up when they arrived, still bouncing up and down from nerves.

"Changing rooms," he told them, the sound of other students arriving for the game starting to reach their ears.

The team hurried into the locker room, none of them saying a word as they slipped on the scarlet robes. As soon as they were finished, Oliver eyed each of them to make sure nothing was out of place before saying "Okay, it's time. Let's go."

"Let's do this," Vas whispered to Clary, bumping their fists together as they left the locker room and reached the Pitch.

As the team came into view, deafening applause thundered from the stands, with nearly three quarters of the spectators adorning red to cheer on Gryffindor in the Quidditch final. Everywhere students were waving red flags and holding up signs saying "LIONS FOR THE CUP!" and "GO GRYFFINDOR!"

Clary couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as she mounted her broom, kicking off the ground and hovering in the air near the center. As the Slytherin team came to join them, her eyes widened as she took in the size of their new lineup, each of the players seeming to hulk over the redheaded girl. Marcus Flint hovered across from Clary, giving her a devilish grin as he sized her up, though she gritted her teeth, refusing to back down.

"It seems as if the Slytherin team's going for size rather than skill on this one." she could vaguely hear Lee Jordan saying into the microphone as Flint continued to stare down Clary.

"I want a nice, clean game." Madame Hooch reminded the teams as she raised the whistle to her lips, blowing into it with a shrill shriek as she tossed the Quaffle into the air.

"The Quaffle is released..." Lee spoke softly, intently watching as Clary dove down, securing the ball into her arms. "...and the game begins! Clarissa Weasley of Gryffindor with the Quaffle, and she's quick to go off for the goal! Go Clary!"

Clary sped towards the goal on the opposite side of the Pitch where Miles Bletchley was waiting, and she willed her Cleansweep to go faster, though she was outrun by the Nimbus 2001s of her opponents. She was instantly surrounded by Flint, Graham Montague and Cassius Warrington, giving her ugly grins and jarring laughter as they attempted to box her in.

"She's mine!" Flint called to the others, darting to grab the Quaffle from her arms, but she glanced around suddenly, throwing it over Warrington's head to where Vasantha was waiting.

Vas caught the Quaffle with a determined smile, closing the distance to the goalpost and tossing it through the right hoop, where Bletchley narrowly missed the ball, causing a thunderous applause to arise from the stands. Shortly after she threw the ball, Flint went barreling into Vasantha, nearly knocking the girl off her broom.