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A/N: This is a random little something that has turned into my first fic. Harry doesn't exist and Oliver Wood isn't (yet) captain of the team. I think that covers everything, any questions just ask. Enjoy“And it’s Spinnet, passing to Bell, who narrowly misses a Bludger to pass to Johnso- ah no, McCormick steals it back for Hufflepuff!”

A general groan goes through the Gryffindor stand, as I swear loudly.

“Now, now Kit, no swearing in front of the little people,” Beth tells me.

I let out a very unladylike snort as I take a glance at her.

Beth and I have been best friends since the first day on the Hogwarts train. Two scared firsties had saw in the other a friend. We were both sorted into Gryffindor and Beth had faced opposition from the other girls for being Muggle-born. I had stood up for her; I had no problem with Muggles, my Mum’s a Muggle-born. United against the plastic idiots we shared the dorm with, we became firm friends and soon found we were as crazy as each other.

“Have you heard them talking in the corridor recently? I’m hardly teaching them anything new, in fact they could probably teach me something” I respond, as turn my attention back to the match, just in time to see Hufflepuff score. “Bloody pissing hell!”

My unusual swearing draws the attention of the little people standing in front of us. One particularly confident looking idiot goes to say something, only to be cut off by Beth.

“I wouldn’t advise it, this is definitely not one of those occasions where the bark is worse than the bite,” she informs him in a helpful manner. Glancing back at me, I attempted to remain serious and might have overdone it slightly, because on seeing my face the little idiot grabs his mate and flees down the stands.

“Right, so I’m not allowed to swear in front of them, but your allowed to scare the crap out of them?” I ask Beth, one eyebrow raised inquiringly, causing the both of us to burst out laughing.

“Aw, scaring little people; nothing beats it.” Beth responds as Lee announces the score to be Gryffindor 90 Hufflepuff 110. “You know, I’m beginning to think I didn’t go red enough with the hair.”

I just turn and stare disbelievingly at her, well more specifically her hair. Normally Beth has light brown hair.

But today it’s a bit different.

Beth thought that considering the desperate position of the Gryffindor team (who were on track to ending up bottom of the table) that a bit of Gryffindor house spirit was needed to spur them on. Personally, I think what they needed was for someone to fatally injure the Captain and Seeker, Robert Smith, to make any difference. But Beth decided to display some house pride by charming her hair bright red.

As in scarlet.

As in if you look at it to long your eyes get sore.

“I don’t actually think it would be possible to get your hair any more red. But if you want more spirit I’m sure some gold streaks would do the job.”

Disturbingly, she takes my suggestion seriously and I can see her brain trying to work out the right spell to use. I edge away from her slightly; Beth’s spell casting has been known at times to go a little off target. Impeccable spells though, they always go as planned; you never had any fear on that part. But who will be the receiver of her wand waving is always open.

Edging away a bit more as her wand is produced from her pocket, I notice that those standing directly behind us have also moved slightly away from Beth. Whether due to hair glare or because as fellow sixth years they knew what she was like, I don’t know.

Now don’t get me wrong I have nothing against showing a bit of house pride, but I somehow think gold streaks wouldn’t be the best addition to my ginger hair. Keeping one eye on Beth’s wand waving, I turn my attention back to the match.

“And Bell interrupts Armstrong’s pass, getting the Quaffle and speeding up the pitch –COME ON KATIE!!!! McCormick is in pursuit, as a Bludger hit by Wilson just misses Be- DIGGORY HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!”

The crowd’s attention moves away from the chasers and everyone watches as Diggory dives from above the Hufflepuff goalposts heading for the centre of the pitch. I look to see where Smith is and see him, as usual, not bothering his arse to pay attention to the game as he circles the Gryffindor goal posts.

“And Diggory flattens out as he urges his broom to fly faster. COME ON SMITH GET YOUR ARSE INTO PLAY!!” Lee’s voice bellows round the ground. The fact Professor McGonagall made no move to correct him and in fact seemed to be shouting at Smith as well, showed how bad the situation was.

By this stage, not only is Lee yelling at him but also the whole Gryffindor stand is roaring at Smith to get the snitch. Smith, in typical form, is actually shouting back and appears to be saying that he wasn’t being fooled by some ploy by Diggory and that we should leave seeking to him.

I can only groan and put my head in my hands as the yelling around me gets louder and the swearing beating what I had said earlier. Then suddenly there is a bang from beside me and I look up quickly to see that Beth has succeeded in getting gold streaks. Only the spell had gone slightly array and the five rows of people in front of Beth now all sported gold streaks in their hair. Nice bit of house spirit, sadly it has little effect. So bad is the situation that those affected stop shouting for just a few seconds before continuing. Beth just stands admiring her handiwork.

“Impressive coverage, but not as golden as I had hoped,” she manages to shout to me over the noise. I can only shake my head at her, my attention firmly on the game, as now all the other Gryffindor players stop what they are doing to start yelling at Smith.

“SMITH, MOVE YOUR BLOODY ARSE!!! IT IS NOT A PLOY- A BLIND MAN ON A GALLOPING HORSE COULD SEE THAT THAT’S THE SNITCH, YOU COMPLETE AND UTTER DICKHEAD!”

McGonagall does nothing to restrain Lee and if anything seems to be agreeing with his statements. As the screaming reaches fever pitch, Diggory reaches out and grabs the snitch. There is mild cheering from the Hufflepuff’s but they are drowned out by the boo’s and yell’s coming from our stand. Even the Hufflepuff players look disgusted by Smith’s actions, not even really celebrating their win.

Smith doesn’t seem to quite realise the match is over, the other Gryffindor players look severely pissed off as they land. Lee now leads the crowd in a chant against Smith, “SMITH OUT! SMITH OUT! SMITH OUT!”

Smith, as usual, is paying no heed to the shouting and flies pompously to land. I look over to see what McGonagall’s doing. She seems to be counting under her breath as she stands up, smoothes down her robes and takes the microphone off Lee. Lee’s so engrossed in the chanting he continues to chant into his hand before he realises the microphone’s no longer there. McGonagall takes a deep breath and the next thing her voice fills the stadium.

“SILENCE!” The chanting immediately stops; you have to hand it to her, its impressive the effect her voice has. “ MR. SMITH, never before have I been filled with the shame I have for my house that you have caused today. You behaviour was absolutely disgraceful, and this is not the first time that you have shown such a blatant disregard for not only your teammates but also your house. You leave me no choice but to immediately dismiss you from the position of both Captain and Seeker.”

Complete silence fills the ground as McGonagall’s words sink in. Smith stands on the pitch with his mouth hung open, not quite realising what’s happening. He quickly finds his voice and actually has the front to shout back at McGonagall.

“You can’t do that! You have no right, I was made captain, this is my team!” he shouts, indignant.

“Mr. Smith, you will find that as the head of this house I can dismiss those from the team as I see fit. Now get back to the changing rooms and stop making a further spectacle of Gryffindor,” McGonagall finishes, disgust evident in her tone.

Cheering breaks out across the stand, as we clap Smith’s exit from the ground. I can’t believe we’ve finally got rid of him. He’s been captain for the past two years, he hadn't been a good captain to begin and has been getting progressively worse. His arrogance had made him immediately disliked by all. If he had actually been a half decent captain he may have gotten away with it, but under him Gryffindors have suffered the heaviest defeats in their whole history. He is determined that he is always right and that no one could tell him how to manage or play. McGonagall’s announcement is no real surprise, though it did leave an interesting question as to who will replace him for the last match against Ravenclaw.

The crowd begins to move down and out of the stands. I go before Beth to help hide her from all the people who are now realising that their hair had in fact gold streaks.

“It’s not permanent, sure it’s not?” I mutter to Beth behind me.

“Well…”

“Beth!”

“You see…I’m not particularly sure,” she admits.

“Oh great so you’ve managed to give gold streaks to half the house, possibly permanently” I grumble back to her, “You know this may just top The Ink Fiasco.”

The Ink Fiasco had taken place last year, the week before our OWLs. I had been sitting revising with Beth in the common room, with Beth getting into her usual pre-exam tizzy. She was sitting muttering away under her breath, while furiously writing revision notes on the properties of Anka Root for Herbology, when she had realised she was nearly out of ink. Anybody else would have asked if any one had a spare bottle, but Beth decides instead to perform the Repleo charm.

It was a tricky little charm that would replenish your ink supply. Now bear in mind that Beth had never used the charm before and had a record for ‘over zealous’ magic. She gave the inkpot 3 sharp taps, and before I could stop her, had uttered the charm.

Credit to her, she had successfully performed the charm. Sadly it was so successful her inkpot suddenly looked as if someone had just struck oil on the table. It covered not only the both of us but also most of the common room and everyone in it.

They still haven’t got the ink stains out of the sofas and now no one sits near Beth when she does any homework.

Making sure Beth’s well hid behind me, we slowly make our way down the stand. Everyone’s talking about Smith’s departure. Some are ranting about just how bad he was; others are debating who would now be Captain and more importantly, who would replace him as Seeker?

You see the problem is, such was Smith’s incompetence (or maybe it was arrogance) that he had never bothered with a reserve team. So, his departure causes much speculation about who would replace him.

“Wood’s obviously going to get Captain, can’t be anyone else. I mean, come on, he’s practically run the team this past year.” comments John Stewart, a tall, gangly sixth year from the group of sixth year boys in front of us.

“Yeah, definitely. Problem is- who’re we gonna get as Seeker?” responds Phillip Dobbin, his short squat friend.

They begin listing all the various possibilities and I’m too busy watching where the steps are that I never notice that the crowd has stopped, so I walk straight into the back of Dobbin.

“Sorry!” I say to him as he turns.

“No worries, Anderson,” Dobbin tells me as he turns back round to his friends, only to quickly interrupt them as he appears to have a light bulb moment, “Hold on, what about Anderson? She’d be perfect!”

Oh great.

Just what I need to brighten up my day.

They start to list the various reasons of why I would be so perfect for the job; seemingly unaware of the fact I’m standing right behind them. Beth hadn’t been paying attention, she was too busy trying to reverse the spell, but she looks up for her wand waving as she sees me tense up.

“What’s happened?”

“Nothing. Absolutely bloody nothing.”

She catches the conversation from in front and understanding dawns on her face.

“They’re just a pack of idiots, ignore them.” she tells me.

Her attempts to make me feel better fail miserably when Dobbin turns round and decides to inform me of the decision they’ve made.

“What do you say Anderson? Your perfect for Seeker! You’re the best choice, you wouldn’t need as much training as anyone else.” He tells me excitingly, he then turns back to his friends. “And with another Anderson in the team it’ll be great. Do you remember when Jo was Beater and Captain? We were unstoppable!”

I drown out the rest of the conversation as I slowly count to ten. Anyone who didn’t know me would wonder at my strange reaction. What’s so bad about someone thinking you’re good enough for the Quidditch team; isn’t that a compliment?

The problem is I’ve spent most of my life trying to fight myself out of the shadow cast by my three older sisters. Throughout my time at Hogwarts I’ve been known as ‘another Anderson’. My three sisters Lydia, Maggie and Jo are all Quidditch stars of the highest degree. Each had been the Captain of the Gryffindor team, each lead the team to successive victories. The constant comparisons had grated on me as I grew up. I hated always being told how much like one of them I was. Very rarely was anything my own, it was always so like Lydia, Maggie or Jo.

The usual thoughts of annoyance fill my head as the idiots in front start to list the ‘Wonders Of The Andersons’.

“It’s cause of their Dad; I mean he’s the best manager for his generation, he was bound to create great players,” Stewart was gushing on.

My Dad had lead the Tornadoes to league victories for the past 10 years, since he joined them in fact. It’s because of his job that my sisters and me have grown up on the Quidditch pitch. Quidditch is firmly in our blood.

“We never saw Lydia play, but Hooch says she had pure natural talent.”

Lydia’s my oldest sister. She made the team, in her second year, as Keeper and had made Captain in her forth year. She had started the tradition of cup winning and also the tradition of record breaking. She became the youngest Keeper in Hogwarts history, she made the most catches in a debut season, the most clean sheets and many more.

She was also famed for her talents outside of the pitch too; I think she still holds the record for the most times caught in a compromising position in a broom cupboard.

Gosh aren’t I proud?

“Yeah, but Maggie was a much better strategist and captain.”

Maggie is two years younger than Lydia, and in her second year had made Seeker for the house team. She was made Captain in her sixth year, after Lydia had left, and had made an impact for her superb leadership skills; which had been unexpected as she was always termed the quiet one. She holds the record for the fastest catch (two and a half minutes). When I started Hogwarts, Maggie was in her sixth year, so I had gained instant ‘cool’ status when I had started.

“Granted Lydia was a great player and Maggie a great Captain, but it’s definitely Jo who was the best. I mean she was an explosive player as well as a fantastic captain.”

The rest of them instantly agree and begin to have an argument about what her finest moment was.

Aw Jo.

She’s only three years older than me and as a result I’ve always felt closest to her. She is the epitome of a tomboy. The fact she managed to make the house team as a Beater in her first year says it all in my opinion. She made records for giving out, and getting, the most injuries in a season, quite a feat. Explosive is one way to describe her, bloody lethal is another, and not only on the pitch. She made a name for herself off the pitch for her various pranks. The most memorable was her turning the Slytherin house banners pink in her third year in protest to them winning the House Cup. They still have a slight pink tinge despite Snape’s best efforts.

She was made captain in her sixth year and, like the others, retained the cup.

Among all this Quidditching glory, you have me. You expect after such achievements as the ones above, that I would follow the trend. Get into the house team at the earliest opportunity and get the Captaincy in my 5th year when Jo left.

Yet I didn’t follow expectations.

I didn’t try out for the house team in first year.

People just thought I was going to be like Maggie and be a rule follower.

I didn’t try out in my second year.

People began to wonder, but then there were no vacancies on the team, so they just presumed I didn’t want to use my name to gain favours.

Then what really got them talking was when I didn’t try out in my third year.

People began to question what was wrong, rumours spread round that I couldn’t fly, that I was afraid of heights, even strangely that I had been cursed by a bitter Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff/Slytherin (depending who was talking about it) student and couldn’t go near a broomstick without it attacking me. Such rumours were due to the fact there was a vacancy on the team. Maggie had left and since so many people believed me her double in temperament, they thought I was perfect for Seeker.

Also my flying abilities had labelled me out for a Seeker. Contrary to some beliefs I wasn’t scared of heights and I could fly. In fact, I was known to be a bit of daredevil, being seen doing crazy stunts on Saturday mornings when I went for a fly about with my sisters.

This was what made it all so confusing as to why I wasn’t trying out- I loved to fly. I had been reared in Quidditch and flying and never was seen to be as comfortable as when I was on a broom.

The reason I never tried out for the team?

It was my form of a protest. Way back when I was only a little person getting ready to go to Hogwarts, I had made a decision. I couldn’t avoid comparisons with my sisters, the likenesses between us were too much to ignore. I couldn’t stop being compared to them in the various subjects or by teachers.

But I could stop any comparisons being made about Quidditch. Quidditch was something I had a choice in. Something I could refuse to do.

So I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t play Quidditch. That I would try to make people see I was an individual, not some creation made from bits of the other three. It probably sounds strange but it made sense to me and I liked the thought that I was making a stand.

Of course no one understood; aside from Jo, she understood the problems of living in the shadow of older sisters. I think that’s maybe one of the reasons why she is always so outrageous; part of it is done in an attempt to make a separate impact. To make her own individual mark.

It wasn’t easy avoiding Quidditch. Growing up I had spent as much time as I could with my Dad down at the pitch, and I really loved the game. But not only did I have to contend with these feelings but I also had to deal with stupid pricks like Oliver Bloody Wood. You know, I actually think that that’s his proper middle name. I mean even his parents had to be aware of what a pain in the arse he is.

Wood is a Quidditch fanatic to the highest degree. We started Hogwarts together and he annoyed me from the instant I meet him. This was because once he had discovered my name, he had started to rant about how he didn’t realise there was ‘another one’. That phrase I fully believe will probably be put on my bloody gravestone- Here Lies Another One.

“Another what?” I had asked him frostily.

But Wood was a thick as a plank when it came to such things as normal human emotions and never twigged that I wasn’t particularly happy about being called ‘another one’. He immediately went off on a rant, all about how fantastic my Dad was, and how brilliant Lydia was so far in her debut season in the Quidditch League and what he had heard about Maggie and Jo. He ended asking me which one was I most like and did I have their abilities.

Fair enough he was being nice and complimentary to my family and all. But it was the tone in which he said it that made me feel as though I was some fascinating creature there for him to poke at and examine. This was a feeling I had felt too many times over the years and I did something that I rarely did.

I snapped at him, told him quite clearly where he could stick his conversation and told him to go and snog a broomstick. Now before you think the worst of me the thing is, I never snap at people. I was the one in the family that never lost her temper, never shouted and I absolutely hated nasty arguments.

Yet as the years went on I discovered that Wood was the exception to this and he always managed to rub me up the wrong way, so that we ended up having a full-blown shouting match.

The problem was, as the years went on Wood became more and more obsessed with Quidditch, achieving the dream of entering the team as Keeper in our 3rd year. The fact Wood was so Quidditch mad meant he couldn’t understand me at all. He had seen me fly and couldn’t understand why I would refuse to try out for the team. For him Quidditch was right up there with breathing and he couldn’t understand why anyone would actually turn down an opportunity to play it.

He has pestered me throughout the past 6 years to join the team. He’s worst at the start of the year when try outs are taking place. He doesn’t help himself much by the fact that he hasn’t learnt from experience that trying to get me to join using the reasoning of ‘you’re so like your sisters you’re bound to be good’ isn’t a good idea. In fact it’s a frigging stupid one.

“Earth calling Kit land-Beth requesting friend back so she no longer looks like she’s talking to herself.”

Beth’s voice interrupts my thoughts as I snap to attention and realise that we’re halfway across the grounds, heading for the front doors. How on earth did we get here already? I look ahead and see Dobbin&Co have disappeared.

“Sorry about that.” I tell Beth, “But you do know people will probably be more concerned by the fact you’re talking about yourself in the third person rather than the fact your talking to yourself? They’re used to the second one, the first one makes you seem like you’re trying to be the Queen.”

“Ha Ha, you’re just so funny aren’t you?”

“Of course, just as you’re terrible at quick witted responses.”

“Oh hush, we can’t all be a sarky cow like you. It would ruin your appeal. But never mind the fact we’re both fantastic,” cue another unladylike snort from me. Beth just gives me a look as she continues. “I was attempting to tell you something important before you decided to zone out on me.”

“And when is anything you say important?”

“Ohhh someone’s being severely sarky!” She looks at me with concern, “Are you alright? You shouldn’t let them idiots bother you; they’ll have forgotten it all by lunch. They’re men, they sacrifice all brain space for the process of making sure they get food.”

I immediately laugh, the frown that had been on my face slipping away.

Being such good friends with Beth means she never gets insulted when I go into severe sarky bitch mode. This happens when I get nervous or annoyed. I’m especially bad when I meet new people; my nerves send my sarkyness into hyper drive. This is bad, as some people just don’t get sarcasm and actually think that you’re insulting them. How anybody doesn’t understand sarcasm is beyond me.

“Sorry dearie. I let the idiots annoy me and I took it out on you, sorry shouldn’t do that. Very bad Kit.”

“Look who’s talking in the third person now!” She responds with a smirk.

“Ah shite, it must be contagious.”

We both burst out laughing, starling the group of little people walking up the steps to the entrance hall in front of us. Looking closely at them I see two of them are the little idiots from earlier. Seeing who the laughter was coming from, they both immediately sped like lightening up the steps and away. Bless, little people are so easy to scare.

“So what exactly was it you were trying to tell me, before I zoned out so rudely?”

“Look,” she says as she pulls a bit of her hair towards me. Her now strangely purple hair, purple hair that I’m now beginning to realise several other people are sporting. “Turns out the gold streaks weren’t permanent once you cover them with another hair charm.”

A/N Thanks must go to the fantastic Shauna Zombie for betaing this

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