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A/N: This chapter was due to go into the queue two days ago but then small minor tweaking turned into some major tweaking that turned into a massive edit; so sorry for the delay. And also sorry for all the commas, they just kept appearing at the most random times. Here is chapter 4 for your enjoyment, I hope you like it. A huge thank you to the wonderful Mistress for the fantastic chapter image. 


Saturday night passes into Sunday morning with no sign of Wood.

Though there is a very pissed off Lyn and Jane when we get back to the dorm, who attempt some sort of come back as we get ready for bed. Before I can say anything, Beth tells them to both sod off and go snog something.

Surprisingly it’s effective and shuts the two off them up.

Daylight breaks through the gap between my hangings at the end of my bed, waking me up. It’s the perfect natural alarm clock.

Pity it had to be so sodding early.

I let out a groan as I stretch out under the covers.

Argh.

The things I do.

Fighting the urge to stay in bed, I roll out from under the covers. I rub a hand through my hair, its curls always looked even more like they had been dragged through a bush backward in the morning. I let out a yawn as I get up and pull the hangings back.

I trod over to Beth’s bed and pull back her hangings. She’s laying flat out on her stomach, her head at the corner closest to me and her legs spread out to the other corner. I give her a poke on the shoulder and jump back. You have to be careful when you wake Beth; with the slightest poking, she attacks.

Sure enough her arms and legs fly everywhere as she lets out a ‘wh-hmpf-argh?’

“Wakey, wakey dear!” I tell her in my oh-so-cheerful voice.

I get a loud groan in response as I head over to my trunk to get something to wear. I poke through all my stuff till I find a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and head to the bathroom. Giving Beth, another good poke on the way by.

“Argh, would you piss off?!” is the lovely muffled response she gives.

By the time, I’m finished in the bathroom Beth’s sitting on the edge of her bed rubbing her eyes.

“Remind me again, why is it we get up so insanely early on a Sunday morning?”

“For the good of our health!” I reply in a sarcastic, heavily Irish accent. Beth just gives me a grunt in reply, as she gathers up her stuff and goes to the bathroom.

I grab a hair bobble and pull my hair back, putting it up into its usual bun-creation-thingy. Then I start attacking it with granny clips. By the time I’m finished every stray curl has been pinned into place. I go back to poking about in my trunk till I come across my Quidditch robes, an old Tornadoes set. I bundle them up and reach under my bed for my broom, a Nimbus 2000.

Beth comes trundling out of the bathroom, dressed in jeans and a heavy jumper over her t-shirt.

“Why would anyone think this was good for you health? They would have to be insane!”

“ I know dear, I know.” I say giving her a consoling pat on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go grab something to eat.”

We head to the Great Hall, the walk silent except for the odd yawn by one of us. Understandably, the Great Hall is practically empty; it was half seven on a Sunday morning. Most people didn’t bother getting out of bed till at least lunchtime on a Sunday.

Jon is already sitting huddling around a cup of tea at the Ravenclaw table; we go over to join him, sitting down opposite him. I put my bundle of robes and broom down onto the bench beside me.

“Mor-” yawn “-ning” Beth tells him, to which she just gets a grunt from him in reply. Jon’s not a morning person; he’s just as bad, if not worse, than Beth. You see, yet another reason why they were perfect for each other!

I grab some toast and pour myself a glass of orange juice, I knew better than to attempt conversation with the other two. I never really minded getting up early, a fact which only seemed to annoy the other two even more.

We soon finish breakfast, with the only thing in the way of conversation being the yawning contest Jon and Beth seemed to be having. We get up and make for the Quidditch pitch.

“So, what’s the plan for today boss?” Jon asks me as we walk across the front lawn.

“The usual. Do a few laps, few exercises and then split them up into their groups for a bit more closer practice.” I tell him, as I realise Beth seems to be twitching quite a lot. “Are you alright dear?”

“Why does it have to be so bloody cold?” She grumbles.

“Well, it might have something to do with the fact it’s February and so it’s actually still winter.”

I just get a Look in reply, logic not being Beth’s favourite thing at this time of the morning.

Or any other time.

We make it to the pitch and Jon splits to go to the male changing room, while Beth and me go to the female ones. I push open the door and realise that, as usual, we are the first there. Beth gets her usual spot of bench and sinks down onto, still grumbling about the weather.

I just smile and shake my head at her as I get changed into my kit. It’s the Tornadoes practice kit from two seasons ago, one of the perks of being the boss’s daughter was the Quidditch freebies. It’s beginning to look its’ age; it’s blue with a yellow stripe up the front, though the yellow had mostly faded away by now. It’s covered in various patches, where it has been mended.

Beth’s still grumbling about the cold, and I’m about to answer back as the door swings open and a gaggle of junior-school girls enter. As usual they go silent at the sight of Beth and me, the usual fear of the older pupil that all little people have.

“Alright ladies?” I say to the group at large as they all find a bench space and start to change. I get a general murmur of yes in response, most of them being like Beth and not very much morning people. “Good to hear! I’ll see you out on the pitch in five minutes then?”

I get another murmur of yes, this one even more timid than the last. Try as I might, I seem to constantly intimidate them. Now useful as that is in the corridors, it just made life slightly more difficult for me here.

I grab my broom and walk with Beth outside. Jon is already changed and standing with his back to us, surveying the pitch. It is the perfect day for flying. It’s a clear cool day, with only the slightest of breezes.

“The boys here yet?” I ask him.

“Aye, Aye Cap, all here and accounted for.”

At this stage you’re probably wondering what on earth is going on.

You see all those years ago, way back in first year, when that first Sunday I had helped Beth and Jon to learn how to fly, two things happened. The first was that it was well established that Beth should never be allowed near a broom, for her (and everyone else’s) safety.

The second thing that happened was that my Sunday morning flying lessons started, not that I realised at the time I would be standing six year later teaching the latest bunch of little people.

That first lesson lead to another, as Jon realised that, unlike Beth, he loved flying and actually, once he got a few pointers, wasn’t that bad. Every Sunday morning after that we would get up early and go down to the pitch to practice. I would teach Jon how to fly and Beth would take up her position in the stands to watch.

Sunday morning was the best time to do it, as it was the one morning of the week that was never booked for Quidditch practice. I think it’s because Quidditch captains feel the need to be lazy as least one morning of the week.

Over the years, me teaching Jon developed into me giving lessons to quite a few other people. In our second year, Madam Hooch discovered that I was helping Jon out, so she asked if I wouldn’t mind, if she sent my way some of the first years who needed the little extra helping hand on top of her flying lessons.

So it became a permanent fixture in my week.

Hooch booked the pitch on Sunday mornings for me at the start of each year. At the start it was hard to get used to, but over the years I’ve really come to like helping people learn how to fly and trying to help them get good enough to try out for them team.

You see that turned into the ultimate aim of most who I have taught, the ones who gain real skill and natural talent go on to try out for their house. At the minute, there is a chaser in Ravenclaw and a beater and a chaser in Hufflepuff that started out learning on a Sunday morning with me. And of course the very first pupil, Jon, is the Keeper for Ravenclaw. Jon always lends a hand during the lessons, though he is quick to say I’m in charge. He doesn’t mind helping people out but he makes sure everyone knows to come and bother me with any problems.

So kind of him.

Now, you would think that with me clearly teaching people how to fly, that the rumours about my inability to do so would be disproved. But the thing is, as I’ve said before, no one got up early on a Sunday morning, no one bar a few study mad Ravenclaws that is, who aren’t concerned about such ‘fickle matters’ as flying.

So those individuals who have started the rumours never realised, that if they just got out of their lazy pit on a Sunday they would see they were wrong. But people who made up rumours didn’t actually care whether they were right or not.

The other thing is; I don’t broadcast what I do on a Sunday morning and I don’t advertise I give lessons. Hooch sends those my way, who she thinks, need a little extra help; they’re mostly muggleborns who need all the help they can get if they want to get on a house team. Some come back the next year, some don’t.

Also those that come generally don’t talk about it. When you’re a muggleborn you spend your time at Hogwarts feeling embarrassed for every little thing that you may be ignorant of. So most don’t like to admit they need additional flying lessons.

I love doing it, partly because I love the feeling of helping someone to learn how to fly and the feeling you get when you see them play for their house. But I also love doing it because it gives me time to fly.

The changing rooms clear out, with ten girls and fifteen boys standing in front of us.

“Right, I’m off to find a comfy spot to sit and sleep,” Beth tells us as she heads for the stand. Though Beth never went near a broom and hated mornings, she always came to every Sunday morning lesson. I could never really work out why but I think its just another obscure part to Beth.

Either that or she’s just checking Jon out in his Quidditch kit; it could go either way.

“Good morning everyone! Right you know the drill, 2 laps round the pitch to get you started. And remember, go at whatever speed you feel most comfortable at, whatever height you feel most comfortable at and be careful of everyone else. Right, off you go!” I tell the group.

They all get onto the school brooms and slowly take off for a tour of the pitch. A few of them streak ahead of the rest, flying high above the ground, while a few of them tag behind the main pack, barely hovering off the ground. The group’s a mix bag, for some of them this is their second or third year back, so they were uber confident and were actually getting really good at flying. Then at the other end of the scale you had those that had only discovered broomsticks in September and still hadn’t fully mastered the art of flying.

“They’re not looking bad,” Jon comments, as we both keep a close eye on them as they fly round the pitch. “Burns is even managing to keep up with the main pack quite well.”

Michael Burns is a first year from Hufflepuff and is the personification of his house. He’s timid, shy and you can’t help but feel for him. He’s bound to be the smallest first year, and that mixed with his milk bottle glasses and floppy brown hair, he had managed to hit a soft spot for Jon and me.

We had caught some third years in the corridor teasing him once during the start of term. They had taken his school bag and had started to play piggy in the middle with it, playing on Burns’ height disadvantage.

I know I go round frightening little people but it’s all done in good humour. I absolutely detest bullying; it’s a way for weak and insignificant people to feel like they were some one, when really they weren’t. What they normally were was just a bunch of arseholes that needed a good hexing. Which is exactly what the group of third years got.

I know it wasn’t a particularly adult way to deal with the situation but you would be surprised by how effective hanging someone upside down is to get your point across.

Burns didn’t have much more luck in the air than he did on land. It probably didn’t help he has a severe fear of heights. But he’s determined to learn how to fly and to fly well. He has the usual muggleborn determination to conquer all aspects of the Wizarding world.

“He’s looking good, he’s making really good progress. So what do you think, Hufflepuff seeker in 4 years?”

“Possible three, that’s if Newton’s younger brother turns out not to be all they say he is.”

Though Burns wasn’t the best on a broom, you could see his determination and there is some talent in there, once you poked around a bit. Over the years Jon and I had gotten good at spotting those that had the potential for going further.

“What on earth?!” Jon half mutters to himself.

I take a quick glance at all the flyers, seeing which one’s in trouble. But I see nothing, everyone still the right way up on their broom and still going in the right direction. Confused, I turn to see where Jon’s looking and find his gaze directed at the stand where Beth usual sits.

I follow his gaze and the sight that reaches me causes my eyes to narrow.

Who is standing beside Beth, chatting away to her, like it is perfectly normal to be out on the Quidditch pitch at eight o’clock on a Sunday morning?

Oliver Sodding Wood.

“Hmpf, three guesses why he’s here,” Jon turns and tells me, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, you never know, he could be here to chat up Beth,” I retort, annoyed by Wood’s appearance. I knew I was right to feel suspicious.

“What! He couldn’t be! Sure he couldn’t?” Jon quickly asks worriedly. I mentally sigh to myself, see what I have to deal with? I’m really tempted at times just to lock Beth and Jon in a broom cupboard together and just get it all over with. “Wait, I doubt he’s here to do that- I don’t think he would bring the whole Quidditch team along with him if he was.” He tells me with a laugh.

“It is not bloody funny,” I tell him, my eyes narrowing even further at the sight of the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team appearing up the steps into the stand and sitting down round Wood and Beth.

And then it all clicks into place into my head.

The dodgy wee sod.

That’s where Beth disappeared too yesterday. She had stopped to talk to Wood when I had gone on to the library.

That’s why he didn’t bother me again yesterday.

And that’s why she was so defensive of him yesterday at lunch.

The dodgy wee sod!

She would have told him that his usual approach wouldn’t work for him and had probably told him he would get on better if he didn’t pester me constantly.

And she would have told him to come along this morning.

She would have said then he could tell me he had seen me fly and I was perfect for the team.

The. Dodgy. Wee. Sod.

Wood catches my gaze and has the bloody cheek to wink at me.

What a nice person.

I’m annoyed now.

I’m very annoyed.

Sunday morning was my little piece of, well, of peace. A time when I could do what I loved best, a time when I could just fly the cares of the week away.

A time that was usually guaranteed to be Wood free.

Several loud thumps cause my attention to return to the lesson, as everyone lands back in front of us.

Right Kit, just pretend he’s not there, he doesn’t exist, he’s sodded off.

“K-kit, there’s p-people in the s-stand!” A particularly scared looking second year from Gryffindor tells me.

“I know there is Tommy, but we’re just going to ignore them. Okay everyone, just pretend they’re not even there.” I say to the whole group.

“But it’s Oliver Wood! He’s the Captain and the Keeper of Gryffindor!”

“And the Weasley twins are there, they’re the Beaters for Gryffindor!”

“And Gryffindor’s Chasers are all there!”

Several voices start chiming to me all at once, all worried about the fact there was a whole house team here to watch them.

Well a house team minus the Seeker.

All were nervous, and some were scared, at the prospect of their flying being judged by such important (in their eyes at least) people.

“And what am I? A donkey?” Jon tells them all jokingly, a hurt expression on his face. “Here I’m thinking, I was the Keeper for the Ravenclaw team.”

His attempt to lighten the atmosphere fails miserably. Little people just didn’t understand sarcasm. They just keep going on with their various worries. I hold up my hands for silence, and unlike Jon, I get immediate silence.

The effect I have on little people.

“We. Are. Going. To. Ignore. Them. Ok? Its just a normal Sunday, the only one in the stands in Beth and she’s sitting sleeping as usual.” A giggle breaks out in the group. Anytime Beth went to sleep, Jon and me normally had a competition to see how close we could fly by her without waking her up. Considering how Beth acts when she’s wakened up, something funny normally happens. “So we’re going to go do some exercises and then split off into our groups. Just like any other Sunday.”

“But they’re going to be watching us- I don’t like other people watching me fly. It always makes me nervous,” the small voice of Burns speaks up from the back of the group.

“Burnsy don’t worry, they’re not here to watch any of you. They’re here to watch me, so if anyone should be nervous it should be me!” I tell the group at large, my words causing them all to calm down and look less nervous. “Right, now that’s dealt with, lets get on to the proper stuff. Today we’re going to look at diving, now I know some off you will have covered this before…”

The rest of the lesson passes peacefully. Spurred on by their audience, instead of being nervous, the group all seem determined to show just how capable they are. They all master diving, even Burns managing to dive and come up again without crashing by the end.

I spend the time trying to ignore Wood’s presence, pushing all thoughts about him to the back burner, where they spend the time slowly simmering away. Along with the thoughts of all the various ways I’m going to hex Beth.

“Well done everyone! I’m really impressed by how well you all did,” I tell the crowd of flush faces standing in front of me. “For those who staying for technical training, if you want to get into you groups, Jon could you go get the box? Everyone else, well done on another great lesson, you’re all coming along so well and hopefully we’ll see you same time next week!”

A chorus of ‘thank you’ and ‘see you next week’ are fired at me as half of the group breaks away and heads to the changing rooms. At this stage, those that are left are those who want to try out for their House team. Left in front of me are five girls and eight boys, already in their groups, one group for each position.

Jon comes back, carrying the box of practice Quidditch balls. The House teams rarely used the practice set because the Bludgers and Snitch moved much slower than the normal set. The practice set was great for us because it meant a lot less injuries. We tried using the proper set one year and ended up with 3 broken noses and one broken wrist. Needless to say we have used the practice set ever since.

“Right, if you want to take your group and start to warm up, I’ll send the chasers over too you once they’ve done a few passes,” I turn and tell Jon as he dumps the box onto the ground.

“Right, my group-to the hoops!” He jumps onto his broom and zooms off, looking very much like he always wanted to lead a cavalry charge. I just shake my head at him; little boys never really grow up.

I let the snitch go and set Simons, a third year Ravenclaw and the only one in the Seeker group, after it. I set the chaser group up with some passing to warm them up and then turn to deal with the beaters. It’s always hard to work out what to do with the Beaters, it’s hard to give them something to practice with and at the same time try to make sure no one gets hurt.

But luckily, after years of watching Jo practice, I knew a handy little exercise that would minimise injuries. I charm the Bludgers to have a cushion charm and send the beaters off to the other end of the pitch to play tag with the Bludger. It’s a fun activity plus it really helps to sharpen their reflexes. The aim is like normal tag but instead of tagging other players with your hand, you tagged them by hitting them with the Bludger.

I send the chasers off to join Jon’s group, so they can practice scoring and the Keepers practice Keeping. I spend the rest of the lesson flying round each group, offering pointers and helping to improve technique. The time, as usual, goes by really quickly and after a good lesson everyone lands and heads to the changing rooms.

“So, on a scale of one to ten, just how pissed off are you?” Jon asks as we put the balls back into the box.

“Sitting at about an 8.5.”

“Frig, thought you’d be at least over ten by this point!” Jon turns to me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I’m leaving room for how pissed off I’ll be once Wood gets to us,” I answer as I watch Wood advance along to pitch towards us.

Beth and the rest of the Gryffindor team were trailing along behind him, the team were looking embarrassed while Beth had that nervous look on her face that she always gets when she realises she may have done something wrong. It’s the sort of look a puppy gives you after it has finished shredding your favourite pair of shoes.

I am annoyed at Beth, very annoyed. She should have known better than to bring Wood here. She should have known better than to try and help him get me on the team.

But…

I know Beth back to front, inside out, and I know she just did this because she thought she was helping. Like I said before, she was friendly with Wood, so she probably just wanted to help him out. And for some strange reason, she has always thought I should try out for the team. At the start of each year, when the tryout dates appeared on the notice board, she always asked was I going to try out.

My answer has always been no and they were never mentioned by Beth again. I never understood why she thought I should try out. It was one of those areas in a friendship that we just didn’t talk about. We could tell each other anything, things that you would never dream of saying to anyone else, like how your new bra was really itching you or how you were pretty sure most of Lyn’s cleavage came out of a box. But we never really talked about why I refused to try out for the Quidditch team.

So my annoyance at Beth is only really a halfhearted attempt. It really is nothing compared the how much I wanted to hex Wood into next week.

And he hadn’t even spoken to me yet.

“Anderson, Harville,” Wood stands in front of us, and nods a hello at Jon and me. Jon nods back while I just give him a grunt in reply. “That was an interesting lesson, I like the exercise you used for the Beaters. It’s a really good idea, I’ll have to get Fred and George to try it out next practice.”

I say nothing in reply, just maintaining my cold stare at him. So he’s going along the compliment route. Buttering me up in the hope that somehow that would make me want to join the team.

He’s getting stupider.

“Anyway, I was just wondering if you had thought anymore about my offer?”

Cue silence.

Tumbleweed blows by.

“Well, I brought the team down today to see what they thought of you, and they all think you’d be perfect,” Wood ploughs on, trying his best to pretend I’m not standing staring at him like he’s a bull due for slaughter. “They all agree with me that your just as good as your sisters-we all think it would be great to have another Anderson on the team.”

Several things happen at once. Beth puts her head in her hands and lets out a load groan, an action mimicked by Jon. At the same time the Alicia, Katie and Angelina, the three chasers, all take a step back from Wood, they’re faces showing their exasperation at Wood’s complete and utter lack of tack.

The Weasley twins, unlike everyone else, take a step towards me, as my hand wraps around the wand in my pocket. It’s always a reflex action when Wood is around.

“Can we have it noted-” Fred quickly starts.

“That we did not say anything-” George cuts in, as the twin’s started talking in their usual way.

“About it being great to have-”

“Another Anderson on the team.”

“We said it would be great-”

“To have Kit, on the team.”

They both take a step back, moving out of the firing line.

The twins and me are good friends; sharing ginger hair and having several older siblings meant we have a lot in common. They are identical twins, tall, well built and with bright orange hair. They have a wicked sense of humour and their aim in life is to become the Pranking Kings of Hogwarts. They were well on their way to securing the title.

I’m one of the few people who can tell them apart and they are one of the few people who would never call me ‘another Anderson’. Also, they’re great for ginger jokes.

“Noted.”

Wood just looks puzzled at my reply, as the twins nod in reply and take further steps away. Wood opens his mouth to start to speak but I cut in before he can start.

“As much as it distress me to refuse such a fantastic offer; sorry but I don’t feel like being your token Anderson,” My voice heavily laden with sarcasm. “In fact, I’d rather stab my eyes out with blunt forks.”

Wood face begins to go red, as it always does when he gets angry. Everyone else takes another step back, all of them grimacing at my sharp words.

“What the hell is your problem?” Woods asks angrily.

“What’s my problem? How about spending the past 16 years being constantly compared to my sisters? Constant comparison that gets to the stage where no one seems to realise which part of me, instead I turn into one big mixture of the rest! Constantly being told how I was just as smart as Maggie, how I laughed just like Jo and how I looked just like Lydia!” My voice is slowly getting louder and I’m now shouting at him. “And how about having to deal with you for the past six bloody years, making me feel that my only worth lay in the fact I was just ‘another bloody Anderson’!”
I viciously make the air quotes with my fingers, my anger slowly subsiding after my outburst. Wood always brought out the worst in me, but I had never shown him as much anger as this before, my words had never carried as much vehemence as those I just said.

Wood stands still staring at me, looking stunned at my outburst. I turn around sharply, I had said my piece and I don’t want to deal with this anymore, so I make for the changing rooms.

“I’m sorry, I never meant to make you feel like that,” He half whispers, but its loud enough for me to hear.

I just keep walking to the changing room.

I didn’t want to hear his apologies.

They weren’t worth much.

He knew how I felt all these years; he knew how his words had hurt me. But then again I had never really showed how hurt I was before. I always just responded with anger, with sarcasm. I never liked to show how much it hurt me; I didn’t want to show weakness.

The door to the changing room swings shut behind me. The room is empty; the little people already changed and back in the castle.

I let the silence of the room seep in until I cant take it anymore and let out a yell. It’s a combination of annoyance, of anger and of hurt.

Strangely it sounds like a cat being strangled.

Stranger still it makes me feel much better.

A/N: Several edits later and I’m still not happy by how this chapter turned out. I can’t stop the whole lessons thing feeling like a random plot device and that’s really annoying because when this story first came to me this was one of the key scenes. I wanted Kit to teach flying lessons, I wanted to show that part of her personality, that though she spends most of the time being sarky and cynical she still has a caring side and really loves to help people out. Also I wanted the fight between her and Oliver, as it was one of the first fights I thought out, and yet it still doesn’t feel right to me.

Oh well, I can’t help the perfectionist side that decides to randomly appear at times.

I hope you like how this one was nice and long,  because the next chapter will be delayed. Feel free to start throwing things. It’s going to be delayed because as soon as this chapter is out of the queue I’m putting in the first chapter of a new story. Feel free to throw even more things at me. Don’t worry, my main focus will be this one, the other is just a random plot bunny that won’t leave me in peace. This fic will get the most attention; the other one will get sporadic updates. (In case your interested in what it is- Good Girls Go To Heaven-Bad Girls Go Everywhere. A fic about McGonagall and her rebel youth.) (Completely random plot bunny)

Right so after that horrendously long A/N, I would just like to say thank you so much to those who reviewed the last chapter. All your reviews were so nice and made me so happy. I love hearing what you think; it spurs me on to write. And thank you to those who are just reading this, it makes me happy people seem to like it. 

A big thank you to my fantastic beta Shauna Zombie- you're brilliant dearie

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