Harry and Amelia Potter

6.12

Ron and I enter the Hall, his eyes lowered, knuckles taped for Quidditch, flexing his fingers anxiously as he makes for the Gryffindor table. Neville passes going the other way.

"Good luck, eh, Ron?" Ron nods shortly, then Seamus comes up on his side, and whispers conspiratorially.

"Counting on you, Ron. I've two Galleons on Gryffindor."

As Seamus peels off, Ron cuts his eyes toward the Slytherin table, where the Quidditch team sits together. One Slytherin juts his chin toward Ron, mutters something. A few turn, snigger. Ron averts his eyes and almost runs into Cormac, who eyes him with disdain as he passes. Frowning, Ron drops down opposite Harry and Hermione and I follow suit. Harry eyes him briefly, knowingly, pushes a plate across. Ron takes a fork, pokes at it glumly.

"So. How was it?" Hermione continues to read the Prophet, unaware of Ron's mood.

"How was what?"

With mock refinement, Ron answers, "Your dinner party."

"Dead boring." I reassure him. "Though I think Harry enjoyed dessert."

Harry's eyes shift to me, then find Hermione, who is smiling faintly from behind the Prophet.

"Ol' Sluggy's having a Christmas do, you know. And we're meant to bring someone..." She says to him.

"I expect you'll be going with McLaggen. Isn't he a member of the Slug Club?"

"Actually, I was going to ask you." She says, a hint of anger laced in her voice.

"Really?" Ron looks confused.

"Really. But seeing as you have such a distaste for the idea-" then Lavender Brown passes by.

"Good luck today, Ron! I know you'll be brilliant!"

Ron smiles feebly, looks back down at his plate. Hermione stares daggers.

"I'm resigning. After today's match. McLaggen can have my spot."

Hearing this, Hermione turns back. Harry catches her eye, extends a shaking hand to indicate Ron's mental state.

"You can't resign. You've worked so hard..." I try to plead. But he puts his hand to my face.

"No. I'm resigning."

"Place you're hand elsewhere." I swat it away and he looks to me apologetically.

"Have it your way. Juice?" Hermione blinks, surprised by Harry's callousness. Ron is surprised as well and mildly put out.

"Sure..."

As Harry pours, Luna arrives at the table wearing a hat that bears an uncanny resemblance to a real lion.

"Hello, everyone. You look dreadful, Ron." Ron nods grimly, lifts his glass. Luna turns to Harry. "Is that why you just put something in his cup. Is it a tonic?"

The tiny vial of Felix Felicis glints in Harry's palm.

"Don't drink that, Ron!" Hermione whines.

But Ron's frozen in mid-sip, looking at Harry's palm too. Quickly, he gulps down the rest.

"You could be expelled for that."

"Dunno what you're talking about." Harry looks to her with a blank face. He pockets the vial, winks at Luna. Ron rises.

"C'mon, Harry, Mia. We've got a game to win."

Soon enough, we're out on the pitch. The quaffle rockets into the air.

Instantly, Slytherin snatches the Quaffle and rushes en masse toward Gryffindor's end, weaving and passing with wicked skill, culminating in a vicious, slicing shot on goal. Just when it appears it will clear the hoop, Ron streaks out of nowhere and sends the Quaffle screaming in the opposite direction. Ginny pauses on her broom, stunned.

"What's gotten into him?" She glances up at Harry and I, circling high above and my brother grins. Just then, Dean streaks by.

"Ginny! Let's go!"

Instantly, she rolls backward, jets off and races down her fellow Chasers. Flying in spread formation, Dean, on the far wing, starts the Quaffle up the line until it lands in Ginny's hand.

Pitching herself into a wide slide to avoid a pair of whistling bludgers, I swoop in and beat them towards the Slytherin Chasers. Funny then leans recklessly off her broom and whips the Quaffle through the goal untouched.

As the crowd screams, I eye the Gryffindor section, where Luna's lion hat roars, Lavender claps for Ron and Hermione sits with her arms crossed, a look of supreme annoyance on her face. I grin, then jet off.