𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 | 𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑚

Chapter 5 - Quidditch

The morning of the first Quidditch match of the season dawned with beautiful clarity--perfect conditions for the teams pitted against each other, Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. When Helena entered the Great Hall that morning, she was surprised to see that most of the students were wide-eyed and awake, devouring down their breakfast in eagerness to get out onto the pitch for the game. There was no denying the excitement teeming off of each individual. Helena made to sit in her usual seat.

Here she was greeted by a surprise, as Neville was already in his and eating, whereas Harry was nowhere to be seen. As she pulled out her chair, she turned to him--he gave her a friendly smile, close-lipped so as not to spill any food from his mouth. "Morning," she greeted and began to slather some jam onto a slice of toast. "Where's Harry?"

Neville swallowed and scooted his chair a bit closer to her, considering the empty space that now rested between them. "He's down in the locker rooms at the pitch," he explained. "Giving the Gryffindors a pep talk."

"Oh, that's sweet," Helena acknowledged, picturing Harry giving the group of sleepy-eyed Gryffindors an animated speech of encouragement.

"Who'll you be rooting for?" Neville asked as he started in on some poached eggs.

"I expect you'll want me to say Gryffindor," Helena said knowingly, a teasing smile on her face.

Neville chuckled. "It would be preferable, yes, but not expected. Why say it like that? Got a thing for Ravenclaw?"

Helena shrugged. "I had some Ravenclaw friends back in school, so yeah, when it wasn't Hufflepuff, they were my go-to team." She scrunched up her nose playfully. "Gryffindor could get real cocky for a team that hardly placed."

"C'mon now, that's not even fair," Neville laughed. "We had heart."

"No, you had Harry. There's a difference."

Another laugh. Was she really that funny, Helena wondered? She cracked a smile, too. "What?" She asked as Neville put his hand to his cheek and rested his face against it.

"Nothing. It's just that you're not wrong."

"Oh." Helena hadn't ever been laughed at and then told she was right all in the same breath before.

"Well," Neville cleared his throat and began to straighten up his area. "I believe I'm going to start my way to the pitch--wanna grab some good seats. Still rooting for Ravenclaw?"

"You didn't do a very good job of convincing me to do otherwise, if you were trying," Helena responded cheekily.

"Fair point. Are you sitting with anyone there?" He began to shrug his tweed jacket over his shoulders.

"The Hufflepuff House."

Neville nodded an acknowledgment to this and pushed his chair in. "As long as it's not alone. No good in that." He began to walk away, but then paused and turned back to Helena. "See you, then."
Helena pressed her lips together in a half-smile and waved goodbye. He stalked off, leaving her to her lonesome.

She supposed she ought to get up and around to the pitch, too. A sparse number of students inhabited the Hall, now, which meant the match would be starting here soon, and she would be damned if she missed the first game of the season. So, hurriedly, she finished off her plate of breakfast food and started to gather her things to head out.

As she was leaning over her to close and pick up her satchel, a shadow crossed over her area. It towered over her, patient, as she finished latching the satchel shut. Helena rose up then, seeing who had approached her.