章 245: Factional Aftermath, Reopen
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" "Cheers!" "
Diamond mugs splashing with golden liquid topped off with white frothy foam clinked against each other in the pub buzzing with a Quidditch game sounding out from a radio with speakers cabling to every corner of the establishment, but louder than that were people boisterous with laughter, bursting with loud conversation while they sipped on simpler drinks like tapped beers and straight whiskeys or blew smoke from their flimsy rolls or chewed-on pipes.
"You did great out there," said James Potter, raising his glass to his best friend, "putting up with Spindlewheel — that man tried to put Dumbledore into the bind."
"Aye, I don't like that slimy snake, always saving those shits from Azkaban, but he sure did well with Umbridge as his client," Sirius Black took a swig of his beverage. Today had been a good day for him — he had put Umbridge behind bars, got to see her crumble, and then got praised by literally everyone he came across.
"I think Owler went easy on Umbridge," said James, popping a fritter into his mouth, "thirty years is less for a repugnant woman like her — she should've gone behind bars for at least forty years, especially know when the jailors have changed to actual people."
The island fortress had been rebuilt and now was under the direct jurisdiction of the newest divisional addition to DMLE — Division of Azkaban Warden Administration.
"It's over; Owler gave her what he thought she deserved," said Sirius, "unlike us, he doesn't know what a bitch she truly is. Him ordering her thirty was the best we could get without pulling out everything else she might have done. Boss wanted this to be done quickly; there's no point thinking about it now."
"Well," said James, stretching the well out, "we can, if you'd like, go digging around for her other misdemeanor — now that she's not going to be around, I'm sure many would be much more motivated to come forward. If we put it together right and are able to get her further convicted, we could make her serve the new sentence consecutively."
Sirius peered at James with his mug raised to his lips. James noticed the look and asked, "What?"
"Did you write to him yet?"
James, who was about to drink, slowly put his mug down and sighed, "I did. He. . . he didn't write much back, what he did write was all deflection. I wrote to him back again, and then again, all I got was anything but why he didn't tell us anything."
"What did he say to Lily? She talked to him, right?"
"She did. Harry did talk to her. . . somewhat — said that it wasn't anything to worry about, that it was all part of the plan, and they couldn't tell anyone because it could've ruined it. But Lily told me that he was clearly avoiding the talk and ran out right after she breached the topic."
"Don't worry about it, mate. He's just at that age. You know how it was — kids want to feel like adults, friends start taking a front row, parents get annoying, and all that jazz. He'll come around."
"Easy for you to say," James chugged his mug down. "You're the fun uncle who he doesn't have to worry about nagging him. I'm the one who needs to discipline him when he does something stupid with you."
Sirius laughed, "There's got to be some upside to being a godfather. I'm having all the fun I can before you die in a ditch, and I take your place."
"You had too much to drink."
Sirius leaned back into his chair of their corner table. "But boy, that West kid really pulled something off, didn't he? Umbridge was nigh-untouchable under Fudge, one kid and a camera, she's shipped off to Azkaban."
"He kept staring back at her."
Sirius looked at his friend, who was staring up at the ceiling. "What do you mean?" he asked; he blinked a couple times to keep focus.
"In the reels. . . Quinn, he kept staring at her the entire time. You didn't watch the part, but the kid kept staring at Umbridge while writing the lines in his blood. It scared her, I could tell, hell, I was a bit nervous. That kid wrote the most of all, never stopped for a second, probably lost as much blood that the others lost in two days. You're right; that kid's something else. He never looked at the camera once the entire time he was in the room. Harry did look though, a couple times, amateur move."
James removed his eyes from the ceiling, brought them down to Sirus, and was surprised to see him leaning over the table, arms crossed with his head resting on them.
"Told you, didn't I? You had a lot to drink," said James, smiling. He slowly got up while shifting his body back and forth, trying to find the balance. "Oh boy," James shook his head, trying to see if it would help shake some booze off, it didn't, so he sat back down, "I wonder if Remus went to bed."
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In an immaculate room with appealing victorian decor, comfortable sofas and chairs to lounge on, and a stocked bar with liquors of choice — everything from butterbeer to gin was available for drinking, waiting to be poured. A soft melody, calm and elegant, sounded in the background, filling the room's ambiance just as the painting set in grand frames did on the walls.
Three men sat around a table with alcohol and platters with assortments of cheese and bread between them. They were Jacob Greengrass, Lodewicus Fawley, and Aashir Shafiq — the three heads of their respective families and members of the Grey Coalition or, as it was popularly known, The Grey Faction.
"Umbridge is out of the picture," said Shafiq; the ice clinked as he placed it on the coaster on the table, "without her, Fudge is going to be trouble."
Dolores Umbridge, for all her faults, was Fudge's strongest asset. She was the hammer and chain that held Fudge's office together with vicious ruthlessness; without her, Fudge would've been split between his patrons a long time ago. Umbridge was why Fudge was able to spread his control into the various departments, which were usually divided into pockets of the powerful noble families.
"Fudge abandoned her right after the trial," said Fawley. "Do you think he knew about what she was doing in Hogwarts?"
"If we were to believe what Umbridge said at the end, Fudge knew what was happening," said Shafiq. All of them were present in the courtroom as part of the Wizengamot Jury.
"It doesn't matter if he knew or not," said Jacob Greengrass. He tapped at the newspaper sitting in the center of the table. It was a rush evening issue of the Daily Prophet with the Dolores Umbridge Trial stamped out on the front page, the courtesy of the exclusive story-breaking journalist, the best in the business, Rita Skeeter.
"Fudge denied any knowledge of the happening, and Umbridge was made the scapegoat," he said. "The real question is what's going to happen now. The elections are next year, and it doesn't look like Fudge is going to have another term."
"Which isn't good for us," sighed Shafiq.
The other two nodded. Fudge's era had been good for them; when the leader was so receptive to external incentives, it made everyone down the power chain also similarly "open-minded" and "open-pocketed."
"If Fudge goes out, then it's Amelia Bones who's going to go up next," said Fawley and sighed. "There's literally no one to stand against her. If she doesn't make any grievous errors, then she's practically a shoo-in for the job."
And all knew that Amelia Bones wasn't one to make potential career-ending mistakes.
"The Head of DMLE moving to Minister," said Jacob, and the other two nodded, knowing what kind of change that would bring. Amelia Bones had been brought up in DMLE — she hadn't worked in any other department other than the one responsible for justice and order.
"We have to move quickly before she gets elected and brings her DMLE flavor to the entire Ministry," said Fawley.
"Should we support Fudge a bit to make sure he doesn't end up getting ousted by a vote of no confidence?" asked Shafiq while he poured himself another pour of whiskey.
Jacob immediately rejected the course of action. "No, that wouldn't be wise. George West wants Fudge out of the Ministry after his term permanently. If we provide Fudge with support, he might end up staying in the Ministry afterward, and that might displease George."
"George West showing interest in politics, that's rare," said Fawley, cutting himself a cheese.
"His grandson was part of the trial," said Jacob. "George West doesn't like himself or his family be part of the politics or be in the public spotlight. He isn't happy that his grandson was pushed into making decisions that put him into the public limelight."
The more powerful and influential a family got, the more they started to retreat out from the public eye. The Wests hadn't been in the public eye for a very long time, and George West was adamant about continuing that status.
Jacob raised his glass to his partners, "To a bright future and a new era."
Fawley and Shafiq raised their glasses and said: " "To a new era." "
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Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord, sat in his room in a building situated in an unknown location. His bony fingers held the exclusive evening issue of Daily Prophets, reading through the pages that only covered a single story.
"It seems my curse is still at work," said Voldemort, his lipless mouth curling up into a thin smile.
"Master. . ."
Voldemort turned to his long-haired, silver-tongued follower, "Speak Lucius, what is on your mind?"
"What should we do about Cornelius?" asked Lucius. He has been part of the Wizengamot Jury, but his support couldn't keep Umbridge from being burned on the stake.
Voldemort rapped his digits on the armrest of his chair as he stared into the flames burning in the fireplace. "Keep him in the chair. As long as you can keep Cornelius Fudge in power, do it. Don't let him fall off before the end of his term."
"What about when his term ends?"
"Amelia Bones, was it? The next-in-line," asked Voldemort, and Lucius nodded. "Bones. . . Bones. . . Bones. . ah, yes, I remember, The House of Bones. . . if I remember correctly, only two were left alive."
"Yes, master. Amelia Bones and his niece, Susan Bones. The niece is the same age as my son."
"Head of DMLE, is she? We can't have her taking power in the Ministry. It'd be a nuisance when we come to power. Tell me, Lucius, would Amelia Bones be open to some persuasion?"
"I don't think so, master. Amelia Bones is as hard as one comes."
"I see, what a pity. Then she needs to go."
"Then. . ."
"Not now, Lucius, not now. Is there any progress on getting the Prophecy, Lucius?" Voldemort asked at the end.
"Unfortunately, master, we haven't been able to retrieve it. Rockwood tried to apply his knowledge, but nothing much came out of it."
Augustus Rockwood, one of the ten Death Eaters who had recently been broken out of Azkaban, was an Unspeakable during the war, but because of Igor Karkaroff blowing the whistle on him, he had been sent to Azkaban by Barty Crouch Sr.
"So even Rockwood wasn't able to get through," Voldemort looked down on his lap as his beloved Nagini slithered into his lap. His hand went to her, feeling her sturdy scales; they gave him the sense of safety.
"It seems we would need to do something different," Voldemort turned his face to the other side and spoke to his other follower in the room. "Wormtail, how's your little friend doing? Is he feeling any better now?"
Peter Pettigrew, who stood in a darker corner of the room, spoke, "He's feeling better, master. Dementors don't suit him, it seems. It's taking him a bit longer to recover. He's not the sturdiest of individuals."
"Get his health back up, Wormtail. It's time for him to pay for his freedom."
"What do you wish from him, master?" asked Peter.
"It's time for the leader of Novellus Accionites to return," said Voldemort, his dull eyes reflecting the flames of the fireplace. "There's a need for a demonstration, a spectacular demonstration."
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"Alright, people! It's a momentous day," Eddie said, facing a crowd made up of forty DA members and people who had been part of Umbridge's twenty-nine. "We have gathered here to celebrate Umbitch's death, the fall of her tyranny, and the revival of what she took away from us."
"She isn't dead," said Marcus from the crowd.
"Bah! Semantics!" Eddie waved him off; Marcus shook his head with a smile. "Yesterday, Umbridge got her judgment, and we got out justice. Now it's time to return everything respectable to Hogwarts by reverting the damage, and today, we start with her worst decision." He raised his arm, pointing towards the head of the crowd, "I ask Quinn West, the Toad Hunter, to step forward. Rest, give him a round of applause!"
Amidst the wave of clapping, shouts, and calls of his name, Quinn walked out from the crowd and stood by Eddie, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"This man has time and time again stood against Umbridge, being the beacon of hope in the tough times, and in the end, he's the one who put her away for good, and today, we are going to reward him by," he stepped aside and raised both his hands to point at a door barred with wood planks, "reopening AID and returning our beloved help club—"
"Consultation service," said Quinn.
"— help club! When AID closed, it was a sad moment for everyone, and today we open it back and return joy to Hogwarts," Eddie slipped his hand behind his back, underneath his outer robe, and to everyone's surprise and shock, took out a big worn down black crowbar.
He pushed it into Quinn's hands, who instinctively grabbed it. Quinn looked at the crowbar with his brows raised, then up at Eddie. "Where did you get this? And. . . why?" he asked, his hands not knowing what to do with the tool.
Eddie shrugged, "Swiped it from Filch's room. Don't worry, I'm just borrowing. I'll return it," he gave him a thumbs-up with a lazy smile. "Now, take that and get your office back."
Quinn felt the weight of the crowbar in both his hands as he spun it along its length. He looked at the planks nailed to the door frame, raised the crowbar above his shoulder, and droved the sharp edge into the wood with the crowd erupting in cheers. Quinn then unceremoniously took out his fake wand, and with one wave, all planks came ripping out from the door frame, nails and all.
Quinn nodded with his lower lip jutting out. He turned to the crowd looking at him with wide eyes, leaning away, their raised hands in protection as their eyes darted between the planks on the floor and him.
"You didn't think I would take out all of them one by one, did you?" he asked. He tossed the crowbar to Eddie, who fumbled to catch it.
"There's something known as a warning!" said Ivy, her hand clutching Hermione's arm.
Quinn grinned as he turned back to the door, took out the spare key — the original still laid with Filich, but it didn't matter as Quinn was going to change the lock. He opened the door with people peeking over his shoulder and gasped as the room came into view.
"W-What happened to your office?" asked Tracey, her hand touching her throat as she looked at the black that encompassed the entire office.
"Hmm? Oh! Ah, the funeral — I mean, it was just something I did," said Quinn and raised his wand, and color started to return to the room like a breath of life.
Quinn stepped into the office, taking place after the longest he had been away from it during a school year. He turned towards the crowd and looked at the other person who was feeling as joyous as he was right now. He stepped to a side, leaving space at the door, and she glided right beside him, instantly recognizing what he meant.
"It seems we are back in business," he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulder.
Luna nodded, "I left my favorite scarf in the workshop. I can get it back now." She immediately ran inside the office, heading to get her scarf back.
Quinn chuckled and turned towards the crowd, clasped his hands in the front, and smiled, "Now that we are open again, I announce a special discount for the reopening. So, who's up for buying some notes," he wiggled his brows, "fifth-years? You didn't forget about the OWLs, right?"
The groans across the board were more melodious to his ears than the jingle of coin that followed immediately after.
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Quinn West - MC - "I couldn't have done it alone."
James Potter - Father - Confused concerning his teenage son.
Sirius Black - Godfather - Zzz. . .
Jacob Greengrass - Grey Faction Bigshot - Flowing with the tides.
Voldemort - Dark Lord - Has a plan in mind.
Lucius Malfoy - Death Eater - Time to cut Cornelius' allowance.
Peter Pettigrew - Death Eater - In-charge of his inductee.
Eddie Carmichael - Just borrowing - Hold "my" crowbar.
Luna Lovegood - AID employee - Her scarf got dusty.
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章 246: Quidditch Cup Finals
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Quinn walked into the Hogwarts library, the single largest "room" in Hogwarts solely dedicated to books. He passed by the long front desk, manned by the eagle-eyed Madam Pince, who peered into the soul of everyone who entered her dominion, trying to instill the fear of horrible demise if any of her dear children were harmed.
He strode through the sturdy bookshelves packed with thick tomes — dictionaries, encyclopedias, and historical texts — that lined the walls, marched across the floors in rows, forming a maze of sorts for the Hogwarts student to navigate to the reading areas.
The sound of his footsteps against the marble floor could be heard as well as the sound of someone as much as clearing their throat a few bookshelves away. He entered the reading area, the most "noisy" part of Hogwarts, with the students collaborating in hushed tones while others scribbled over their parchment hunched over some book that they had picked out for their assignments.
Quinn looked around, searching for the person he had come to meet. It didn't take more than a few seconds — she sat in the same place they occupied every day since the start of their meetings.
"Good evening, Daphne. How're you today?" Quinn said, carefully pulling out the chair to not make any noise.
"Good evening," she said, looking up from her cache of AID notes.
"Only eight weeks remain to your OWLs," he said, "how do you feel about that? Ready to knock it out of the park?"
Daphne nodded.
"Excellent, what do you want to cover today?" asked Quinn, settling himself in the chair as he peeked over to what she had opened in the AID notes.
"Arithmancy: The Law of Quadruple Pairings."
"Ah, no wonder. That one's a bit tricky, but I do have a trick that'll help you get a grasp of things. You actually don't need to. . ."
In the library, with a ward around them stifling all outgoing sound, Quinn tutored Daphne while clearing any doubts she footed. It wasn't difficult for Quinn to teach someone smart like Daphne, who had basics down; as such, time passed quickly, with Quinn enjoying going over some topics he himself hadn't touched in some time.
"I guess that's it for today," said Quinn. He pushed the parchment with a solved example towards Daphne. "Your Arithmancy just needs practice. Solve some more problems, and that'll get the concepts clear."
Daphne nodded while comparing what she had done with Quinn's work.
Quinn tilted his head. There was something different about Daphne today, he thought. His eyes slightly narrowed, wondering what it was, trying to pinpoint why it seemed so distant today.
"Daphne," he called.
"Yes?"
"Please, look at me."
The quill in Daphne's hand stilled. She glanced up from her work and looked at Quinn as he asked. "Yes?" she asked.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked. "Why does it seem that you're avoiding eye contact with me, and you haven't spoken much today."
"It's nothing like that. You must be imagining things."
Quinn stared at Daphne, but the girl went back to taking notes. There was once again a silence between them. Quinn took account of the three-quarter of the hour they had spent together; Daphne hadn't spoken to him other than asking questions. Something was clearly bothering her.
"Daphne," he said again.
"How're things going at AID?" Daphne asked but didn't look away from her work. "I heard you sold a lot of notes after the reopening. You're again going to get busy. . ."
Quinn opened his mouth only to close it. There was clearly something bothering her, but he couldn't tell what it was. He tried to think if he missed something — her birthday, no, that had already passed; had he promised something, not that he could remember.
A silence settled between them as Quinn gazed at Daphne while she never looked up at him. Then it struck Quinn, and he knew he shouldn't, but it did turn his frown upside down.
"Daphne. . . I'm still going to teach you, you know," he said, leaning towards her with his cheek resting on his palm. "This isn't going to end just because AID reopened."
Daphne's quill stopped, and she finally looked up from her work. "You don't have to do tha —."
"We're going to continue this," said Quinn, cutting her off and intertwining his fingers with hers. "This might have started because AID got closed, but that doesn't, in any way, mean that it has to stop now that AID reopened."
Daphne grasped Quinn's hand back.
"You're cute worry about silly things," said Quinn, grinning. "If you don't like something, you can always-always tell it to me."
Daphne nodded, "It's just that, I enjoy our time a lot and. . . but you get busy so. . ."
"I do too, so very much, and if I want to spend time with you, then I'll take out time to do so — no excuses."
In the quiet library, two people grew closer than they were before.
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With the OWLs, NEWTs, and the rest of the end-of-term examinations right on the horizon, it was time to pack up the extra-curricular and co-curricular activities for the year and go into study mode. In Hogwarts, there was no bigger out-of-curriculum as Quidditch, and today, was the day for its biggest game of the year.
"YEAH, HEHEHE-AH!! Hogwarts! Are! You! Ready! For the biggest game of the season?!"
Quinn's voice riding on the loudspeaker pitched to every corner of the packed stadium — Hogwart students wearing their team colors, carrying rain gears in case of a downpour, holding their bottles, mugs, and glasses of butterbeer while screaming and chanting through their freshly painted faces. Pennants and flags flew throughout the stands as the Hogwarts crowd sat shoulder-by-shoulder, showing camaraderie among even the most estranged housemates — half-naked boys could be seen dotting the crowd with their bellies painted with numbers and letters, offering the most excitement many had shown through the entire year, while some threw food at anyone who wasn't in their camp.
"Yeeessss! Oh boy, now I'm regretting skipping the last game," Quinn grinned into the microphone. "The game hasn't even started yet, but I can already tell that it's going to be a great one! And putting a little sparkle into this game, I'm happy to announce that for this season's finale — Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor, I'll be joined by a guest announcer. Give it up for the one-and-only, Head Boy, Captain of the Hufflepuff's, Champion of Hogwarts — CEDRIC DIGGORY!!!"
A crackle coughed in the stadium as Cedric amped up the second microphone. "Thank you for that introduction, Quinn. It's an honor to be a part of this game, but I would like to start with correcting you on something — I'm no longer the Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team, I stepped down from that position after our last game."
Cedric's voice caused the Hufflepuff crowd to burst into applause, whistles, shouts, and cheers for the best player and Captain they had in years.
"Ever so noble, aren't you, Mr. Diggory. Well, nevertheless, your contribution to Hufflepuff Quidditch and Hogwarts Quidditch as a whole can't be ignored," Quinn flipped over a sheet on his little commentator's table. "You're Hufflepuff's all-time top-scoring Seeker with most the most snitches caught in the least games played. Your Hogwarts career spans over five years — six if we include last year's Quidditch Tournament, and you were made Captain when you were in your fourth year and have held onto the posting till this year — in that time, you led Hufflepuff to their highest win-to-loss percentage in a century — an impressive resume no matter how you look at it."
"You flatter me. I couldn't have done it all alone. I have my team members having my back on the pitch and the entire house supporting me to thank for. They have been with me every step of the way."
"My magic, you're humble. Have you thought of joining politics? I predict you'll do great there. Ah, it seems we have to cut this conversation here as Ravenclaw and Gryffindor have entered the field," he added at the end, seeing the entry signal.
Both teams flew out of their corners, emerging out of blue and red fogs, as they flew low, nearer to the ground, just below where the stands started, circling around the pitch in formation, giving the people a glance at the two teams competing for the Cup and the position of the best team.
"Today's game is quite exciting even without the final tag attached to it," said Quinn. "First of all, we have to talk about the Weasley twins."
"Yes, we have to," said Cedric. "Today can't be talked about without mentioning those two. It's their last game today, after all."
"Yes, the Weasley twins, Cedric, I apologize for the analogy I'm about to use, but if you're a historical figure in Hufflepuff Quidditch, then the Weasley twins are going down as historical figures in the annals of Hogwarts Quidditch."
"I forgive you," said Cedric, chuckling.
"Fred and George Weasley are all-time great Beaters in Hogwarts history. They're the best duo in a very long time, a couple of centuries, to say the least. I have some data, but that doesn't do both of them justice; they have been consistently phenomenal in their six years of their playing. They have been terrifically effective against Chasers squads no matter what the year, no matter what house. It has been a pleasure watching them play, and I regretfully say that after today, Gryffindor is going to lose an asset that had been their backbone for years, going back to the Oliver Wood era."
"I agree wholeheartedly with you, Quinn. But, as we are talking about last games, it's the last game for Angelica Johnson and Alicia Spinnet as well. After today, Gryffindor will not only lose the Weasley menace, they'll also lose two-thirds of the Gryffindor Vixens, leaving only Katie Bell as an experienced Chaser."
Quinn nodded deeply. He wasn't a huge Quidditch buff, but when you had been doing commentary for years, it was inevitable that he had become knowledgeable about the sport. "After today, Gryffindor is going to lose their long-standing continuity and will need to rebuild. I just hope they'll be able to come together strong as ever the next year."
"And, we can't ignore his return to the Quidditch field," said Cedric, and the crowd knew exactly who he was talking about.
Quinn smiled, "On the orders of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the season-long ban on Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Seeker, has officially been lifted for the final game of the season. He'll be replacing Ginny Weasley, who had been seeking for Gryffindor in Potter's absence."
Harry Potter flew in the front of the Gryffindor Team, one of his hands gripping his Firebolt, while the other waved to the crowd as both teams stood in the center of the pitch.
"But today, they're going to be facing Ravenclaw," said Cedric, a bitter smile on his face.
"Yes," Quinn chuckled, "with four Gryffindor players retiring today, I fear that it might turn out to be the feel-good ending they're aiming for."
"No, not with how he's playing," said Cedric, "it'll take a titanic effort for them to overcome this Ravenclaw Team."
On the field, the two teams faced each other, waiting for Hooch as she performed a pre-game check on the game balls.
"So, Johnson," said Eddie, making Angelilook at him, "you decided to put Potter on the field, huh. Are you sure that's a smart decision?"
"Oye, Carmichael, don't spout nonsense," Ron said, limbering up shoulders and neck.
"Hey, I'm just asking," Eddie said, raising both his hands, looking at Harry, "I mean, Potter hasn't been on a broom this year, he might be rusty, and you know, the Weaslette had been playing well, so was it really a good move to bring in someone who hasn't played in a while when the Cup is at stake?"
"Keep yourself to your team, Carmichael," said Potter, "or who knows, you might not get to touch the quaffle, and I'll have the snitch in my hand."
"Alright, if you say so," said Eddie, rocking back-and-forth on the heel of his feet, "you know you're right, I need to keep myself to my team," he wrapped an arm around Roger Davis' shoulder, "it's Captain's last game, so the least I could do is to send him off with the Cup. That seems to be the most fitting farewell." He looked at Angelina, Alicia, Fred, and George, "We can let you guys touch the Cup for a while if you guys want."
"Oh, Carmichael," said Fred, and George continued, "we are looking forward to jamming a Bludger in your face today."
Eddie threw his head back and laughed, "All the power to you, guys. You guys tried last time, and see where that got you, let me tell you — a crushing defeat."
He glanced at Hooch walking toward them and turned to Ron, "Oye, Weasley, the not-funny one, yeah you. I'll be coming for you today, hard, so try to touch the quaffle, okay? I'm warning you because I don't want to see you crying after the game."
Back in the commentator's booth, Quinn watched as Hooch raised the quaffle. "Alright, rowdy people, Madam Hooch has raised the quaffle; the game is about to start; let's see who gets the initiative and spearheads the game," his voice boomed through the stadium.
On the pitch, Harry tensed on his broom, angling it perfectly before the start of the match. He tuned out Quinn and waited to see the quaffle fly up into the air.
The second the official tossed the quaffle, he moved his Firebolt as quickly as it could rev up. He banked left and flew spinning between the two Ravenclaw center chasers before they could make a play for the quaffle. Both dispersed, attempting to not get part of a collision when the free-quaffle was up for grabs.
Cho attempted to follow Harry but wound up blocked by her own Chasers.
The result was the quaffle fell unclaimed. At least until Alicia cut under it. She reached out to the falling quaffle, but before she could reach it, a blue blur scooped up it before her.
"What a diversion by Potter!" Cedric's excited voice boomed in the stadium. "Spinnet's speed was impressive; for a second, I thought she would go uncontested — but Carmichael struck again; no one's better than him the first grab! There he goes, gaining altitude — and what's this he scores on the low side — Ron Weasley misses it by a foot! Score! That's a quick 10-0 to Ravenclaw!"
Eddie pulled up on his broom, coming to a halt before he went behind the goal hoops, and turned back to go back to his side, and on his way, he winked to Harry, who had come near to Gryffindor hoops.
"That was indeed great diversion, Potter," he said, "but it's going to take a lot more than that to keep me away from MY quaffle."
Harry wrinkled his nose as his brows furrowed. That diversion was planned and practiced so that they could get their hands on the quaffle first and start with the tide on their sides. It was proven from the previous year's games, and this year, every time Eddie got the first grab on the quaffle, Ravenclaw would almost always lead, and it became difficult to wrestle that lead away.
It seemed today was no different, and Ravenclaw gained a strong lead.
Eddie shifted the gears on his broom, cutting very close to Angelina, causing her to drop the quaffle. It was quickly picked up by Eddie, who tossed it to the other Chaser, who fed Roger Davies for an easy goal. Eddie's eyes glanced up to the scoreboard quickly. 120-40 was a promising start. But it meant he still had to be on high alert.
As much as he liked Cho as his teammate, she wasn't doing much more than following Potter around. And he wasn't sure if she could keep up Potter from out-flying her.
'Well, I just need to score more,' he thought and got back to work.
The game continued, and both teams began piling up points — Ravenclaw much more than Gryffindor. Soon, the game reached its climax.
It wasn't long before the golden ball was spotted, fluttering lazily down by the ground. It couldn't have been more than a few feet from the grass. Harry spun his broom around and angled himself into a corkscrewing dive until he had the line he wanted. Cho immediately followed after him.
"And Potter dives again!" Quinn announced for everyone in attendance to hear. "Is it a feint? I think it's not! Oh, there he goes rushing. Chang follows, oh, she gains upon him! Potter's back in the lead. . ."
It was then Cedric spoke up into his microphone, "Carmichael has the quaffle. Everybody! The score's 350-200! If Carmichael scores before now, Ravenclaw will win the game no matter if Potter gets the snitch or not, but if he doesn't, the game will go to a shoot-out! Will he able to. . ."
Everything went silent for Eddie as he flew towards the goal hoops. The crowd's voice disappeared, the commentators became non-existent, there was only him and the goal hoops with only faceless silhouettes in his way.
'It felt good,' he thought as he dipped below a raging Bluder, rammed his arm into someone's chest to shake them off of him.
This was the time Eddie felt in complete control. Despite the rushing wind assaulting his ears, he could listen to his heartbeat and even to the sound of his breathing. The pressure of the game on the line brought something out of him that nothing else did.
'Ah, I hope this never ends.' He cocked his hand up his shoulder and threw the ball towards the uppermost of the three hoops. The quaffle left his hand, his fingers putting his special spin on it. He watched as faceless silhouette dived towards the quaffle, but the quaffle suddenly rose and slipped the blocking hand, dinged into the hoop's ring, and fell past the circle.
The silhouette turned back into Ron Weasley and sounds returned.
"GOAL!" he heard Quinn speak, and immediately a second after, he heard Cedric speak, "Potter's got the snitch! But it's too late; Carmichael scored! 360-350 for Ravenclaw! Ravenclaws are the new champions!!!"
Eddie's chest rose up and down as he stared at the scoreboard. He looked at his team celebrating in the middle of the field. But he didn't join them; instead, he flew towards the teachers' booth where commentators sat.
Quinn spoke as soon as he arrived, "Eddie! You won! Boy, you're a champion now! You did —"
Eddie placed his legs on the railings, the broom still under him, and pulled Quinn by his shoulder, cutting him off mid-sentence.
"Listen!" Eddie said, his heart beating hard in his rib cage. "Listen," he said again, "I. . . I'm going to do this!"
"What? What do you mean," said Quinn, still leaning over the table as Eddie didn't let him go.
"I. . . have decided. . . Quidditch, I'm going to do Quidditch," said Eddie.
Quinn blinked a bit as the realization struck him, "You mean after Hogwarts," he grinned, "you're going pro after Hogwarts?"
"Yeah, I will be a pro, yeah."
Quinn's smile bloomed. Before Quidditch, Eddie switched things every week. It was only Quidditch that he stuck on.
"Alright, go do it!" said Quinn. "You go become a pro! Someday, I'll buy a team and have you play for me."
Eddie nodded, but it seemed he wasn't listening to it. He let Quinn go and flew away, but again, he didn't go to his team; instead, he flew toward the stands.
He landed in the crowd of green as the crowd parted to give him space. His eyes only had for a brunette that sat in front of him.
"Eddie?" said Tracey Davis, standing up from her place, but before she could say anything, Eddie pulled her close and. . .
"Holy shit! He kissed her!" Quinn's surprised voice spread in the stadium.
Tracey, wide-eyed with surprise, was pulled into her first kiss, but then realization struck her about what was happening, and her arms coiled around Eddie's neck as she leaned into the kiss.
Sitting beside her, Daphne watched with her brows raised higher than ever as her best friend kissed Eddie Carmichael in broad public with so many watching. She wasn't sure if she could do that in front of so many people.
Eddie and Tracey's lips stopped their dalliance as they stopped to breathe; their foreheads rested against each other.
"I wanted to do that for a while now," said Eddie, putting his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.
Trace smiled, "No one was stopping you. . ."
"I'm going to need more."
"We can go now."
"Okay."
The cheers spiked up, but the two couldn't hear anything.
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Quinn West - MC - He did it! Oh my god, he did it!
Eddie Carmichael - Future-pro - Kissing = Good.
Tracey Davis - Delightfully surprised - Already thinking about which broom closets are the best because. . . Kissing = Good.
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Sniff. . . my boy is all grown up!
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