13. Bewitched Quidditch

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Second Book

Mid October, 1992
Fourth Year

Ara was starting to think Quidditch caused more problems than it was worth.

She had been unable to sleep one early Saturday morning, which already made her irritable.

When Ara heard the Slytherin Quidditch team, including their new seeker, her baby brother, snickering as the moved through the dungeons, she tried to ignore them, to go back to sleep. But, something about it had rubbed her the wrong way.

Draco hadn't said a thing about there being practice, and that didn't seem like something he'd miss out on bragging about. To top it off, Adrian hadn't said anything either. None of the Quidditch players, most of which she was quite friendly with, had. Which was unusual, to say the least.

Having nothing better to do, Ara quietly got ready and tried her hardest not to wake Nereza up, because it was the polite thing to do, but it wasn't like she'd actually be able to wake her even if she wanted.

When Nereza was out, she was out cold.

Ara sighed as she pulled on her Slytherin robes while walking out of the dorm.

She would just check on the team, take a quick peak, make sure everything was alright, and then leave, no one would even notice her.

Yes, that's what Ara told herself as she marched towards the Quidditch pitch groggily.

But you see, that plan had quickly been thrown out the window.

"-No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!"

Ara stopped dead in her tracks.

"You'll pay for that Malfoy!"

Ara let out a sinister laugh, which halted the uproar that her brothers stupid choice of words had caused.

"Yes, Malfoy, you will pay for that,"

In the blink of an eye, Ara was standing in front of her brother, and in-between a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors, both dressed in their respective Quidditch robes.

Everyone on the pitch looked extremely uncomfortable, Fred and George both made an awkward face and gave each other a look that said 'he's done for', because if they knew Ara, they knew she wouldn't stand for this.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, what have I told you about children using that word?" Ara smiled in a way that forced the hair at the back of her brother's neck to stand on edge.

He said nothing back, afraid his voice would fail him.

"Ara, he-"

"Marcus," Ara swiftly looked over to the taller, older, Slytherin, he nearly flinched, "-Since when do you hold Quidditch practises so early?"

Marcus Flint gulped, looking like he'd just been caught in a lie, which he had, and Oliver Wood knew it.

"He's got a letter from Professor Snape, Ara," Oliver mused nonchalantly, Marcus shot him a glare.

"Does he now?"

"Ara-"

"Let's see it then,"

Marcus avoided the blondes gaze while she was being handed the letter from Snape, which stated that the Slytherin Quidditch team was allowed to use the sports pitch today, even though the Gryffindors had already booked it.

Once finished reading the letter, Ara gave Flint a nearly amused look.

"I can't imagine what Professor Snape will do if he finds out you faked his signature, Marcus," Ara mused, that was definitely not her Uncle Severus' handwriting, or signature, "-And here I thought you were smarter than that?"

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