Muggle | 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑊𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑦

Chapter 118

Soon, the first Quidditch match of the season arrived. That day at the Gryffindor table, a solid mass of red and gold cheered and roared as Ron and Harry walked into the Great Hall.

"Cheer up, Ron!" called Lavender as he sat down. "I know you'll be brilliant!"

But Ron ignored her, looking pale and sick as he stared down at his plate.

"Tea?" Harry asked him. "Coffee? Pumpkin juice?"

"Anything," said Ron glumly, taking a moody bite of toast.

"How are you both feeling?" Hermione asked, glancing sideways at Ron.

"Fine," said Harry, who was concentrating on handing Ron a glass of pumpkin juice. "There you go, Ron. Drink up."

Ron had just raised the glass to his lips when Hermione spoke sharply. "Don't drink that, Ron!"

"Why not?" said Ron, raising a brow at her.

I smirked into my drink, but remained silent.

"You just put something in that drink," said Hermione, staring at Harry like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Excuse me?" said Harry.

"You heard me. I saw you. You just tipped something into Ron's drink. You've got the bottle in your hand right now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Harry, putting the bottle hastily in his pocket.

"Ron, I warn you, don't drink it!" Hermione said again, alarmed.

"Stop bossing me around, Hermione."

She then leaned toward Harry, saying quietly, "You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"

"Look who's talking," he whispered back. "Confunded anyone lately?"

I snorted at that, causing their heads to turn on me. "Sorry." I cleared my throat, putting my glass down.

With one last glare at the two boys, Hermione got to her feet and stormed out of the Great Hall.

"I'll — I'll go talk to her," I said and got up, waving at them. "Good luck, guys."

Running to catch up with Hermione's quick pace, I panted heavily when I finally reached her.

"I can't believe those two!" said Hermione angrily, not slowing down.

"Oh, relax, Herm-own-ninny," I said with a chuckle.

       She gave me a look.

      "Er... sorry. Couldn't help myself there."

"It's just that they're not considerate!" she went on. "They don't think, that's their problem! And they piss me off!"

"By 'they' do you mean Harry and Ron, or just one of them?" I grinned as she looked away and didn't answer, walking on.

She breathed heavily as we walked down to the Quidditch Pitch, her thoughts obviously messed up.

So I just said, "Look, things will fall into place eventually." I shrugged. "You'll just have to... let things flow on their own."

Hermione gave me a half smile. "Since when have you gotten all mature? I don't remember you like this when you hung around with Fred and George."

"You just answered yourself," I said with a grin. "That was because I used to hang out with them. But now that I spend most of my time with you... I'm unfortunate to say that you've had a bad influence on me."

"Bad influence?"

"Yes, you heard me!" I nodded firmly. "I used to be an honorable prankster, Madam! It was a matter of pride to me! But now look at me... all poetic and mature. Shame, shame..."

Hermione chuckled, holding my arm in a friendly manner until we took our seats in the pitch.

The game soon started as the players walked into the field with their brooms in their hands.

      "Where's Malfoy?" Hermione asked with a confused frown, looking down only to see that he was missing.

"Dunno..." I shrugged, acting obliviously.

"Captains shake hands," said Madam Hooch, and Harry had his hand crushed by the new Slytherin Captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle... three... two... one..."

And by the sound of her whistle, the players kicked off hard from the frozen ground and shot to the sky and the game began.

This year, the commentator was that Hufflepuff git, Zacharias Smith. Instead of talking about the game, he kept on saying how bad the Gryffindor team was and how Harry had only picked the players because they were his friends.

      "Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaking down the pitch and —" said Smith, "— Weasley saves it, well, he's bound to get lucky sometimes, I suppose...."

The Gryffindors applauded as Ron saved his first goal, and then kept on going. The loud sound of jeers erupted the place and Luna's famous lion hat roared over the crowd.

The score was now sixty to zero in our favor and everyone was now singing the Gryffindor's version of 'Weasley is our king'. Even Hermione seemed more cheerful than ever.

As Zacharias Smith kept on insulting them, I felt my anger surge from within me, and so I took out my wand and pointed it at him, casting a nonverbal jinx.

On cue, his hat was drawn down on his face and covered his eyes. He yelped and tried to get the hat off his face, but it wouldn't budge as the crowd laughed at him.

      "I can't see! Somebody get this bloody hat off me!" he yelled and people kept laughing at him, until Professor McGonagall waved her wand and released him of the hat.

     Although I could've sworn that for a second I saw her smile.

Hermione gave me a look, to which I rolled my eyes. "Oh, what? He deserved it! Admit it, it was funny."

She didn't say anything and instead looked away, though did not succeed in hiding her scant grin.

But at last, the game ended when Harry caught the snitch, the crowd bursted with applause, and we were called down to a party at the common room.

At that, I gulped to myself, even though I was secretly excited for the eventful night that awaited us.