บท 138: Malfoy has an Unfortunate Accident
Oleandra was very annoyed. Easter break hadn't turned out to really be a break from classes; everyone had piles upon piles of homework to do. But solving her homework's problems was not an issue in the slightest; what she didn't like was putting quill to paper, demonstrating how she had arrived at the solution. And history of Magic was the worst offender; there was nothing to solve, only textbooks to regurgitate.
To make matters worse, Marcus Flint, Slytherin Quidditch team captain, somehow had it in his little head that Oleandra was still part of the team. The Quidditch Cup finals were fast approaching, so he had her fine-tuning the team's brooms and coaching Draco one-on-one nearly every day, to simulate playing against Harry Potter.
Oleandra hadn't played Quidditch seriously in a very long time, so she was quite rusty. However, she was an excellent flier, since she had perfect control over her flight trajectory. Catching the Snitch was another story, however. Harry had only got better and better over the past years; even Draco was better at snatching small balls out of the air than she was at this point.
But still, she made for a better Seeker than Draco, since she could spot the Snitch much earlier than he could due to her Mystic Eyes, and she was just the better flier overall. So it should have come as no surprise to her when Draco accidentally slipped on a banana peel and broke both of his arms right before the match.
When Oleandra went to see him with some get well soon peonies, she found that Marcus Flint was already there, waiting at the entrance of the Hospital Wing.
"Oleandra," he said. "With Draco out of the picture, we'll need Slytherin's best Seeker to help us take the Cup. This is my last year here, so I'd like to go out with a bang, you get me?"
"Just one thing," said Oleandra. "You don't happen to have anything to do with Draco's accident, by any chance? You know how his family is, don't you?"
"I dunno what you're talking about," said Flint with a toothy grin. "S'got nothing to do with me if Malfoy slips on a banana peel or an orange peel. So are you in, or are you out?"
Obviously, Oleandra couldn't leave her House high and dry; it'd be immediate social suicide if word got out that her refusal to play had cost Slytherin the Cup.
"It doesn't look like you're leaving me much of a choice," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "I'll play."
"Perfect," Flint said, his grin widening. "Good thing I made you practice, huh?"
Oleandra simply snorted in response and brushed past him so that she could go into the Hospital Wing and get Draco his stupid flowers.
It's wasn't that Draco wouldn't be able to heal in time for the game; mundane injuries like broken bones didn't even require a day of convalescence for Wizards, but Draco wouldn't be in top shape by the time the finals arrived. And perhaps Draco had finally got the message that he wasn't wanted as the Seeker after his numerous blunders, because he didn't argue too much about the swap.
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It seemed as if Draco hadn't been Captain Flint's only target; and the Gryffindors seemed to have realized it too. In the days that led up to the final match of the season, Oleandra couldn't get even close to Harry due to the number of people acting as his bodyguards. As for Oleandra, she didn't have anyone guarding her, because the fact that Draco had been hospitalized was being kept secret. Oleandra was Slytherin's secret weapon, and they were keeping the secret close to their hearts!
When Harry and the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall for breakfast the day of the match, all three of the Houses except Slytherin applauded loudly. What was with the difference in treatment, Oleandra thought to herself sullenly. Slytherin was most likely to win the Quidditch Cup; on top of needing to catch the Snitch's one hundred and fifty points, Gryffindor needed at least sixty points on Slytherin to win the Cup. Trying to win while holding back was easier said than done.
Finally, it was time. Oleandra discreetly left before the end of breakfast time to rejoin her team in the locker rooms, where they were having a pre-game match plan.
"We need to close the game as soon as possible," Flint was saying. "Focus on stopping them from scoring; if you've got a shot at the Seeker, take it. Oleandra, we need your sharp eyes to find the Snitch as soon as possible. Potter will be sticking to you like glue; get rid of him any way you can."
Oleandra nodded.
"Wait, where's your Nimbus 2001?" Flint said in shock when he saw Oleandra's golden Nimbus 2000.
"I lost it," Oleandra explained with a shrug. "No need to swap brooms, I'm more comfortable with this one, anyway."
"If you say so… Okay, now we've got good weather conditions, which benefits us more than it does them," Flint said to the team. "Let's play to win, people. Now let's go and win the Cup!"
"YEAH!" shouted the team together.
"And here are the Gryffindors!" Oleandra heard Lee Jordan's, the commentator, muffled magically magnified voice coming from outside. "Potter, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, Weasley, Weasley, and Wood. Widely acknowledged as the best team Hogwarts has seen in a good few years—"
It was now Slytherin's turn to exit the locker room and walk out on the pitch; and they did so with their heads held high.
"And here come the Slytherin team, led by Captain Flint. He's made some changes in the lineup and seems to be going for size rather than skill… And what's this? Another last-minute change, Oleandra Greengrass, who lead Slytherin to victory two years ago by complete chance, is replacing Draco Malfoy as Seeker! She hasn't played into two years either, what an odd choice from Slytherin! Well, not that I'm complaining!"
"Captains, shake hands!" said Madam Hooch.
Both captains squared off against each other and grasped the other's hand; from the pained expressions on their faces, it looked as if they were mutually trying to crush the other's bones.
"Mount your brooms!" said Madam Hooch. "Three . . . two . . . one . . ."
And with the blast of her whistle, barely audible over the crowd's cheers, the players were airborne!
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