Cast yourself (you are the spell)

Chapter 11

Hope doesn't catch another glimpse of Josette for the rest of the night, and in the morning, she wakes up bright and early.

Her team wears their quidditch uniforms to breakfast, and she forces them all to sit together to eat. Perhaps, that wasn't the best plan.

"-No, Park, the deal was if I score at least six goals, you have to drink one of Slughorn's expired potions."

"I was fucking drunk when we made that deal, Clarke," Penelope grumbles around a swig of pumpkin juice.

"Hey, what did I say about carbs before a game?" Hope interrupts, eyeing Penelope's glass. "Water, only."

"You're such a hypocrite, Mikaelson," Jo Victoire speaks up, extending her arms out to put her hair into a ponytail. "We all saw you eating three slices of chocolate cake last night after practice."

"Whatever," Hope sharply cuts her off before she can say more. The rain had always made her hungry. "I want you all in the locker room by eight."

She storms away, her quidditch robes billowing behind her, leaving her team to finish their breakfast in seconds and quickly run after her.

By eight, everyone has formed in a circle around Hope, some leaning against various lockers, some sitting on benches.

"Okay, we already know Madame Pooch is biased against Slytherin, so if anyone acts out, she won't hesitate to penalize us instantly,'" Hope starts, looking around to her friends, who are all actively paying attention.

And it's true-Slytherin has never been the Quidditch referee's favorite house. She has never openly said anything against them, but the inclination towards every other house is there. And unfortunately, she's been chosen as the judge for this first game, despite the plethora of referees Hogwarts has at their disposal.

"However, that does not mean we can't be aggressive. We just have to be more clever about what we can and can't get away with," Hope smirks, and the expression is mirrored in the rest of the team's lips. The distant sound of cheering greets Hope's ears from the stands, and she realizes that they need to get a move on things.

"Now, I could give you all a big, inspirational speech on how important it is that we win," the pureblood drawls, "but the fact is-this is Hufflepuff we're talking about. If we lose, you're all dead to me. Got it?"

Everyone nods, half the team swallowing nervously and the other half laughing. They cycle out of the locker room one by one after each other, with Hope coming out last.

She rubs her glove-clad hands together, feeling nervous, but if anyone asked her she would never admit it. It's always been like this, right before every match she'll feel a painful cramping in her stomach as she works herself into an anxious wreck. She never gives any hints that she's actually on edge, but the nerves remain in her stomach like small butterflies all the same.

As seeker, she has one of the hardest jobs on the pitch, but her eyes are sharp and she's always managed to catch the snitch every game she's played so far.

Once again, she hears the rumble of feet and shouting from the bleachers. The Hufflepuff team has just been introduced by Professor McGonagall, and Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff have all shown up to support them. It's a full house-the stands are absolutely packed-and Hope quickly sees that the Slytherins will only have their own house to encourage them today.

It's raining, too. Not as hard as it had been last night, but the cold still bites into Hope's skin when the wind breezes over. She briefly wonders if Josette has come to watch the match, and she looks around but doesn't find her sitting on Slytherin's side of the bleachers.