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Turns out, coming up with something Angelina and Fred to do together was proving more difficult than we initially thought. Alicia had come up with various ideas involving stripping and playing pin the tail on the Weasley, but they were all vetoed. Mostly by me because I’m sane. Katie couldn’t think of anything and she spent most of her time trying to get George to just talk to Fred, who had refused anyone who talked to Angelina. Oliver was also at a blank, but he promised he would think of something.

Unfortunately, the second Gryffindor match of the season was coming up and before anyone could think of a way to stick the pair together—it was forced upon us. In a bad way.

There was a team meeting two weeks after term began—one week before the Slytherin game. Oliver had no choice but to call it since the match was so close but no one was in worse spirits than the broken couple.

“This is rubbish—I don’t want to play with him!” Angelina yelled at breakfast before we headed off to Transfiguration. “He’s a foul git and I don’t want to be near him!”

“Right back at you!” Fred called over the table. “You’re a stubborn woman and I am letting every Bludger smack you in that thick conk of yours!”

“Then I’m not going to score so you can’t get the satisfaction of winning!” cried Angelina.

“Bloody—you will too score!” Oliver folded his arms and stood up, pressing Fred back into his seat and glaring at Angelina. “Shut up—the two of you! You’re going to play like a damn team! Team meeting tomorrow night and I don’t care how far you sit apart—you’re both going!”

I raised a brow and snickered to Alicia. “He might as well just adopt them.”

“I don’t need your input, Perry.”

“You never do,” I said loudly, “I just give it to you free of charge.”

He threw a celery stick at me and sat back down. “You’ll deal with the team meeting and you’ll bloody like it—the lot of you. And no bickering!”

“He can adopt me,” said Alicia, laughing a bit. “I won’t constantly bicker.”

“Don’t be stupid, Alicia,” said Katie, helping herself to more pudding, “you’d want to catch a glimpse of him in the shower.”

“I can already do that!”

“You probably have!”

I changed a glance and I was happy I did—Wood was positively blushing.



Things did not get any better the following day. Every time Angelina and Fred were within ten feet of one another they would start in at each other’s throats. The rest of the team (myself included) spent much of their Saturday morning dragging the pair apart. Even Ellis joined in, grabbing Fred by the arm and steering him toward the library (“Why would we go in there? Madam Pince hasn’t seen me for years,” said Fred).

It seemed like full time work and when Angelina was finally finishing her Charms essay in the dormitory and Fred was away with his twin up to the Owlry, I breathed in deeply. I was in the Great Hall, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, wondering if this day could go slower. Oliver said the team meeting would only last an hour, but he had been known to tell fabulous lies when it came to his meetings. This time, however, I found that I did not want to refuse him or complain—especially after what he told me about his father.

That made me wonder if I was doing it just because he told me that. Was that the only reason he told me—to get me to stop whining? Maybe it was just a perk. I still wouldn’t put it past him. Prat.

“I’m sorry to hear about your team.” Roger slid into the chair next to me.

I looked over. I hadn’t spoken to him since the break up by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and part of me had no idea why. We didn’t end horribly—besides me tearing up in the corridor—and we had agreed to remain acquaintances. Right? I couldn’t really remember the logistics of it all. He looked fine—his hair wasn’t as shiny as usual, but that could have been my bias against him.

“What about them?” I asked slowly, turning more in my seat to meet his eyes. “What happened?”

“I just mean your form falling apart. I know Wood worked hard for a Quidditch machine,” he said.

I frowned. “We’re fine, Roger. There’s just a little tension.”

“I could hear the little tension all the way across the castle.”

“Seriously, we’re fine.”

“Maybe next year, Jane. You’ve still got a year left anyway.” Roger shrugged and stood up. “Have fun at your team meeting. By the way, good luck with Wood.”

I raised a brow. “With what—I’m not on the team, remember?”

“I mean the two of you—aren’t you—well, together?”he asked.

I nearly choked. “No-of-bloody-course-we-aren’t-together!” I cried. “What are you, daft? I told you nothing was going on and you didn’t even believe me! Wood and are aren’t together and I hate him as much as I did the day I met him!” (Ok, maybe a little less—but not much!) I paused for a moment. “And it won’t be next year, Roger. It’ll be this year. I’ve got pad sizes.” With that I turned, flipped my hair in a very un-Jane-like way, and stomped my way out of the Great Hall.

The girls were waiting in the dormitory when I returned, Angelina’s Charms essay now finished and mine not even started.

“Do you think this will really be an hour?” asked Katie, grabbing her cloak.

“I doubt it,” said Angelina darkly. “Oliver will want Fred and me to suffer as long as possible.”

I ignored her. “I just wish we could have this inside the castle—I really don’t think Flint will be in the next room with some spy equipment.” I picked up my own cloak and draped it over my shoulders, staring out the window. “It looks like the boys already left—yep, that’s them walking down by the willow.”

Alicia glanced over my shoulder. “It’s safe, Ang. Let’s go and get this over with.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not talking the whole time. I don’t care if Oliver asks me a question or not—I’m not talking.”

“Of course you’re not,” I said offhandedly, opening the door.




The room was fairly loud when we arrived. The boys, it seemed, had tried to forget the tension and George was drawing obscene things on the white board. I took a seat between Angelina and Katie on the left side of the table and I silently prayed Oliver would, for once, be right about the timing this time.

“All right, you lot know why I called this,” Oliver said, getting to his feet and erasing George’s pictures. “It’s because the match is next week. We’ve been practicing since the Christmas Holidays ended and we’ve been playing like rubbish ever since.” He paused, staring at Fred and Angelina. “If we don’t get our heads in the game, we’re going to lose. Yes, lose. I don’t stand for losing. This is my last bleeding year and if we lose to sodding Slytherin I’m going to make sure none of you reach graduation without a limp.” He narrowed his eyes. “So. We’re going to talk tactics until I’m satisfied you’ve all got it in your thick skulls.”

There were simultaneous groans around the table.

And so it started. For a half hour Oliver went through diagram after diagram (how did he have more after the last two meetings?) and used a metal pointer to show us all about balance rituals, the Slytherin hair-aerodynamics, and the different grass textures throughout the pitch. I dozed off a few times, but seeing Flint’s hair up on the board made me giggle for a bit.

“Is that clear?” said Oliver, slapping George on the back of the head so he would wake up. “You are not to kick off on the left side of the field. You won’t get enough of a push.”

“You don’t need to tell some of us twice, Oliver,” said Angelina, rolling her eyes at the twins. “Some of us pay attention.”

George elbowed his twin. “Fred—Fred, wake up, mate.”

Fred jerked awake and wiped the drool off his mouth. “Oh, it’s over then? I’ve got to get back. I told Leanne I’d meet her for dinner.”

Katie blanched. “Leanne?”

Fred yawned loudly. “Yeah. She asked me to help her with her Transfiguration later.”

“Transfiguration my foot,” muttered Angelina, rolling her eyes again.

Fred looked over. “It’s not like you’ve got a study partner anyway.”

“Come on, guys,” said Oliver, holding out his hands and flipping to the next board. “We’re almost finished.”

“I only don’t have a study partner because mine was a prat!” countered Angelina. “I’m all right with that anyway—I was the one helping you!”

“Helping me? The only thing you were doing was trying to distract me!”

“How so?” she snapped. “I was trying to help you with your essays!”

“You’re so full of yourself!” cried Fred.

No one around the table knew what to do. George was trying to force Fred back into his seat, but it wasn’t working. I tried to pull on Angelina’s sleeves, but she yanked them out of my grip.

“Me? Me?! You’re the one strutting around with your bloody head up your arse!”

“No, you!” yelled Fred and I raised a brow.

“Oh yeah, good ruddy comeback,” said Angelina, tossing her napkin back on the table. “This is ridiculous, Oliver. I’m not staying any longer.”

“I’m not finished!” Oliver said, his eyes shooting daggers. “You’re not leaving until I’m done!”

“Well today,” said Angelina, purely seething, “I’m pulling a Jane.” She turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

Then Fred stood up. “Well, I’m not staying either! This is rubbish!”

To my surprise, Oliver shot me a death stare. “Great, Perry. Now they think it’s okay to walk out on a team meeting just because you did it.”

“Don’t start on me, Wood,” I muttered, stretching and standing up. “This is way beyond my control.”

Oliver sighed. “You’re right.” He looked at the rest of the team, frowning. “I’m worried. I’m really, really worried.” He sank into a seat and stared straight down the table at Ellis. “Catch the snitch fast, mate. I’ve got to deal with this tension and there won’t be enough time between now and the match.”

Ellis nodded. “That’s what I’m here for.”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s hope that’s what you’re here for during all three matches.”




Things weren’t improving. Oliver had taken to not spending any time with the rest of the team because he would be furious by the time the subject of Fred and Angelina came up. I still hadn’t told him about Roger, but I was starting to believe it was better that way. Oliver didn’t need to know.

Part of me didn’t know how the Saturday match would go. I wanted to believe that Angelina and Fred would put aside their differences and just play to win, but I knew them. Angelina was all about holding a grudge and getting even, while Fred was about showing people up. There was nothing we could do.

“I can’t even get my cup into a cat,” muttered Angelina, tapping the small pink teacup with her wand. “I’ve been looking forward to this lesson for weeks and now I’m rubbish because I’m ticked off.”

I sighed. “Maybe if you would get over this, you’d have a nice fluffy cat to pet.” I petted my own cat behind its gray ears and it purred.

“Good try, Jane.”

I frowned. “Ang, please tell me you’re going to play right on Saturday.” I kept my voice to a whisper because McGonagall was surveying the cats with hawk eyes (which I found interesting considering her Animagus form).

“I’m going to play fine,” she snapped.

“Miss Johnson, please keep your voice down,” McGonagall snapped, examining the nose of Alicia’s cat.

“She’s naturally loud like that,” said Fred. I shot him a dark look.

“Oh, that’s really rich of you,” Angelina retorted. “Telling me I’m loud when you spend your nights yelling over people in the common room.”

“I don’t yell over people—how is it my fault if people enjoy my jokes?”

“Mr. Weasley, there will be no arguing in my classroom!” said McGonagall and Fred sank back down. “I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but you’d better work it out quickly because it will not carry over to your studies.”

Angelina was fuming and ended the class behind a teacup with a furry tail.




The night before the match, the common room was drearier than usual. On a normal night-before, there would be little parties going on and loud people setting off fire crackers near the window. Fred and George had retreated to bed early, soon followed by Lee and then Ellis. Once Fred went upstairs, Angelina stormed up the girls’ spiral staircase, followed by Alicia and then Katie.

Even though it was late, I didn’t feel like going to bed. I figured Angelina would be pounding on her pillows, whining about how Fred didn’t do something or how he complained about something else. I kicked my feet up onto a coffee table and pulled open my Potions book.

“Studying the night before a match?”

I turned. For a fleeting second I was hoping it would be someone—anyone female other than the person it was. “Yes, Libby. I’m studying because I don’t have to suit up and catch a snitch tomorrow.”

“You might have to if something happens to Ellis,” Libby said, plopping down beside me.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to help.”

I snorted. “Help with what?”

“Your Potions,” Libby said, raising her eyebrows and folding her arms. Part of me wished she would be stuck like that.

“Okay. Let me go get my notes.” I stood up, and walked up the stairs. Then I ambled in the door, tossed my book on the bed, and closed the door with my wand. The girls looked at me. “Libby offered to help me…or hex me, I couldn’t see through her clever disguise.”

“So you just walked up here?” asked Katie, getting under her covers and blowing out a candle.

“Yeah, I told her I was getting my notes.” I snickered, placing my book on the bedside stand. “Obviously, I’m getting them right now.” I fell backward onto the bed. “Yep. Potions notes.”

“You should probably make it a bit more obvious you loathe her, Jane,” said Alicia, finishing another Quidditch magazine and discarding it to the side. “It hasn’t quite reached the surface yet.”

I yawned. “I’ll get on that tomorrow.”

Before I fell asleep I could hear Libby downstairs saying “Has anyone seen Jane? She asked me to help her with Potions. Everyone knows she’s rubbish…” I turned over.

“Down killer,” said Alicia. “You are rubbish at Potions.”

“Sod off.”



For once, I felt a little lonely as I took my seat for the match. Nearly all of my friends were on the team, my ex-beau was sulking near the Ravenclaw end (probably rooting for Slytherin), and Lee was doing the commentating. I looked to my left and right—people I didn’t know. Libby was near the front holding a ridiculously large sign for Oliver and, for once, I could see Henrik a few seats to the left.

I watched the team walk onto the field. The girls were walking with their heads held high and I could tell Alicia kept an eye on Angelina as they made their way toward Madam Hooch. Fred was moping behind, dragging his broom and George was telling him something. Ellis seemed to be ignoring all of them (for once). And then there was Oliver—striding across the field with a determined, confident look on his face. I’d seen that look many times. He had it while handing me his broom before the Seeker try-outs. He had it while explaining that I should break up with Roger. He had it when he needed to shut me up after Christmas.

Ever since that happened, my mind drifted back there every so often. I felt like a prat, thinking about a kiss that didn’t mean bollocks, but for some reason my brain wanted to linger on the memory under the mistletoe. It was stupid. It wasn’t even amazing—it was a hard kiss to get me to stop telling him off. He told me it was to get me to shut up. Even if he would have enjoyed it, it wouldn’t have mattered. We wouldn’t match together. We would fight far too much.

Plus, he had Libby. Stupid sodding Libby.

Not because she was with Oliver. Just because she was a twat.

And because she was with Oliver.

But only because he was too good for her—not because I enjoyed the kiss or anything.

It wasn’t like it was horrible or anything.

It wasn’t amazing, though. It wasn’t like Oliver was a knight in shining armor.

He wasn’t even a knight. And his idea of armor was a Quidditch robe.

But anyway.

I heard Madam Hooch’s whistle and watched every player fly into the air. Immediately I knew it wasn’t going to be the lovely, clean game of Quidditch I had come to enjoy.

For starters, the Slytherins took possession of the Quaffle as soon as they could. Flint flew under Angelina and through Alicia before scoring on Oliver. I groaned as the Slytherin end erupted, but Ellis was flying high above, searching hard so I tried not to worry myself.

And then it happened.

“It’s Katie Bell with the Quaffle and she dodges Morson—takes it under him and passes to Alicia,” said Lee, watching the Gryffindor Chasers weave around the pitch. “It looks like she’s going alone at this one—blimey, what’s that about?”

My eyes flew to the opposite side of the pitch. Oliver was yelling—at Angelina and Fred. I gasped.

“GO CRASH A BLOODY BROOM!” I could hear Angelina screaming. She was only a meter away from Fred, both suspended high above the crowd with scowls on their faces.

“JUST BECAUSE I TRIED TELLING YOU THAT YOU WEREN’T PASSING IT RIGHT DOESN’T MEAN—”

Angelina grabbed Fred’s Beaters’ bat out of his hand and wacked him over the head with it. He swerved slightly.

“You’re a right piece of woman!” Fred yelled, rubbing his head.

Meanwhile, I looked up at the scoreboard to see that Slytherin had scored three times since Oliver was yelling himself hoarse at the pair and Alicia was trying to score again. She was flying by Angelina when the Quaffle was grabbed from her hand.

“I’LL GIVE YOU A RIGHT PIECE OF SOMETHING ALL RIGHT!” Angelina screamed, chucking the Quaffle at Fred’s head. He flew backward.

“Blimey!” Fred moaned.

“Can someone stop this please?” said Lee Jordan into the microphone.

Play had almost halted. Oliver was screaming. The Chasers were pulling Angelina away. George was grabbing onto the end of Fred’s broom. Most of the Slytherins were giggling. I could see Roger laughing from his seat across the stadium.

Prat.

It looked like chaos—the Slytherins were now trying to grab at the Quaffle so they could score, Oliver had abandoned the hoops to tell Fred off with his finger wagging, and the crowd was going crazy. I could barely hear myself think.

And then, just when I thought someone was going to get poked in the eye by the end of a broom, there was a flash of scarlet.

“He’s got it! Blimey, that little shit got it—whoops, sorry, Professor!” Lee sounded like he was nearly crying. “Danny Ellis catches the snitch and wins it for Gryffindor—one hundred sixty to fifty!”

The crowd erupted around me and I couldn’t help but whoop along with everyone else. It was an amazing moment—the team was cheering (Oliver was hugging Ellis but still looked irritated) and fans were spilling out onto the field.

I tried to savor it before the lecture I was sure to witness later on.




“How could you be so bloody careless?!” yelled Oliver, pacing the empty classroom. He had pulled all of us away from the party and into the room just after the champagne bottles had been uncorked by Lee Jordan. “If Ellis hadn’t caught the snitch we would have lost in no time with you two swinging bats at each other!”

“I wasn’t swinging a bat!” countered Fred.

“You were instigating—don’t give me that rubbish!” I hadn’t heard Oliver so mad in a long time and I was wondering if he would pick up a chair any time soon just to break it over someone’s head. “This has got to stop. I will not tolerate your bad breakup leaking onto my pitch! This. Has. Got. To. Stop.”

I glanced around the room. Everyone was watching the Captain in an awkward awe—all except Angelina and Fred, who were both looking at the tiled floor in shame. I didn’t know what to do, especially since I wasn’t on the field for the match and, to be frank, I wasn’t altogether sure why I was there to begin with.

I thought it was best not to ask the livid Oliver.

“Sorry, Oliver,” muttered Angelina, her face glowing with humiliation.

“I’m not even going to think about it. It doesn’t even feel like we won,” Oliver said, now pacing again. “I’m going to put this match behind me and try not to dwell on the hours of research for things I told you in that last team meeting…things you didn’t think about before trying to dodge Flint on the underside when I told you he does the best flying downward…” Oliver paused and took a very deep breath. “Okay. This is what we’re going to do.”

Suddenly I was worried. I hadn’t heard that tone of voice before. It was a voice with a plan—with determination. This was a voice of desperation.

“We’re going on a retreat,” said Oliver.

“A what?” George gaped at his captain.

“A retreat,” Oliver repeated. “Next weekend the lot of you are going out to the Quidditch pitch. All day and night Saturday we’re doing team builders and you’re going to learn to be a bleeding team again.”

“Won’t it be…ridiculously cold?” said Alicia, making a face.

“Probably.”

“Isn’t that a bit dangerous, Oliver?” asked Angelina.

“It’s very rich of you to ask if something’s dangerous,” he replied, rolling his eyes, “especially since you think swinging a club at someone’s head doesn’t qualify as it.”

She scowled.

“We’re going on the retreat and you’re going to like it. And you’re not getting out of it.” He folded his arms and stopped pacing for a moment. “This is my last resort. It’s either this or…we’ve got to start training Ellis individually to catch the snitch in seconds.” He shrugged. “But that won’t get me an international roster spot.” With that, Oliver left his team in complete silence.

“What do you think we’ll have to do?” asked Angelina.

“Suffer because of you,” muttered Alicia, walking out and slamming the door.

I made a face. “Don’t beat yourself up—or anyone else,” I said and smiled weakly. Angelina returned it, though reluctantly.



I didn’t feel like the party was real. Everyone was going crazy after the win and drinks were being passed around, but I refused the ones that were handed to me. It didn’t seem right even though I had no part in the win (or the sense of loss). I just moseyed along between the people and listened to their conversations.

“Do you think a retreat will be okay?” Oliver handed me a sour and I took it, taking a small sip. He led the way over to a few unoccupied seats by the window and sat down.

“I don’t know,” I said slowly, staring around the room. I could see most of the team (each looking as somber as the next), but no Fred or Angelina. “I don’t think there’s much else you can do.”

“McGonagall gave me the idea,” he replied, taking a sip of his own drink. “I was desperate. This will be my last match. I need to win. I need to be picked up by a scout. I don’t think I have another choice.” He frowned.

“If you don’t have another choice then you don’t have another choice,” I replied, shrugging. “I’m sure the team will be fine.”

“Will you survive?”

“I’ve made it this far with a git as a Quidditch captain, I think a silly retreat will just be a thorn in my side.” I beamed at him and left him to his pratty thoughts.



“What sort of team building things do you think Oliver was talking about?” asked Katie, brushing through her hair the Wednesday morning before the retreat. “You don’t think we’ll have to do a bunch of sodding drills, do you?”

“If it were drills he’d just have us do an extra-long Quidditch practice,” said Alicia, picking up her Care of Magical Creatures book so we could leave for class. “He said we’d be doing team-building stuff…”

“I hope it doesn’t last the whole weekend,” muttered Angelina.

“And if it does I’m going to ruddy blame it on you!” said Alicia loudly, shoving the book in her bag.

“On me? What about Fred?”

“I’ll blame it on both of you then—yelling and hitting each other during a Quidditch match!” Alicia roared. It was obvious she had wanted to get this off her chest for several days. “Have some bloody respect! You could have wrecked it for all of us—just because your stupid relationship ended horribly even though it was just because you were to scared to go the next step!”

“The next step?” said Angelina. She looked scared. I figured I would be too with Alicia telling me off like that.

“Don’t be stupid—you were too scared to have sex with him and have a real bleeding relationship that you figured breaking up would be the answer.” Alicia folded her arms. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. Ridiculous. And now you’re both unhappy because you haven’t figured out that you WANT EACH OTHER BACK!”

I smirked. Leave it to Alicia to stuff something in another girls’ brain.

Leaning back against my chair, I watched the action around me following Alicia’s outburst. Katie had paused, brush midway through her hair, and was watching with a shocked expression on her face. Alicia was breathing heavily, her fists clenched at her sides, and Angelina’s eyes were beginning to water.

“I…I…”

“Don’t say anything,” Alicia said loudly, picking up her bag and swinging it over her shoulder, “just think about it. And I swear to God if this retreat is Hell on a pitch then you’re getting it…with a Beater’s club.” She turned on heel and stormed out.

I made a face. “So…I’m going to head to class then.” I grabbed my bag. “Coming, Katie?”

Katie nodded and followed me out the door. I then closed the door quietly behind me, hearing the soft sobs of Angelina.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” asked Katie.

“I’m not so sure. Part of me thinks she will, but the other part of me knows Angelina is ridiculously dense.”

Katie smiled sideways at me as we continued down the corridor. “She’s not the only one around here.”

“I hope you’re referring to Alicia because I have a bag full of heavy books.”




Saturday morning was bright and I thought to myself that at least the weather would be cooperative for our outing—even if Fred and Angelina were not. I dressed quietly, along with the other girls, and we packed the few things that Oliver told us to the previous day.


Shoes
Wand
Extra Pair of Clothes
Pajamas (“Bugger,” said Alicia)
Socks
Something to Occupy Yourself at Night
Skills



I groaned, grabbing my Transfiguration book. At least when we were finished I would be able to catch up on my chapters (probably by witnessing another Fred and Angelina all out war). Alicia placed a stack of Quidditch magazines into her own bag and Katie found a novel she hadn’t gotten the chance to finish since she checked it out from the library.

“All right,” muttered Angelina, “what time does it say we’ve got to be on the pitch?”

“At noon so—twenty minutes,” I replied, checking my watch. “Everyone have everything?”

“I’ve lost my sanity,” said Alicia. “Did you put it into your bag on accident, Katie? I think I saw you with it—you can’t have two, She-Devil!”

I snorted as Alicia ran at Katie’s bag, snatching it and throwing her things all over the place. A blue bra found its way to the top of the wardrobe. “Give it—Alicia, come on! We’ve got to be downstairs soon!”

“A Tale of Persephone and her newfound love, Dave,” said Alicia, reading the cover of the book. “What’s this rubbish?” She turned the book over. “So the Greek Goddess gets transported from ancient Greece to modern day England? Oh, this is rich. I bet Dave has a handlebar mustache and a twitchy eye!”

“Stop it—he does not! Dave is quite the looker with dark hair and green eyes and—nevermind!” Katie cried. “Just give my damn book back!” She snatched it out of Alicia’s hands and stuffed it back into her beige bag.

“Don’t forget your bra,” I said with a snort, pointing to the wardrobe.

Katie hit Alicia hard. “You get it!”

Alicia smirked, climbed on a chair and grabbed the bra. She held it up to her own bust for a second before chucking it back across the room so Katie could put it away. “Don’t be such a spoil sport. Your bra is pretty!”

Katie scowled. “Can we just go?”

I nodded and pulled open the door. The lot of us walked together down the spiral staircase, Katie with her bra now secure in her bag, and left through the empty common room.

“Lee and Henrik both asked where we were going this weekend,” said Angelina into the silence. “I told them about the retreat. Henrik looked a bit put out, but Lee started laughing. Stupid blighter.”

I smiled. “At least someone knows so if we die they’ll come looking for us…eventually.”

“With Lee I’m not sure he’ll ever come looking,” said Alicia.

“Nah, he’ll notice the twins are gone,” I said. “Eventually.”




The grounds were solid as we walked toward the pitch since it hadn’t rained in days. It was a warm winter—too warm, I think, to snow since January, but I secretly hoped it might get chillier to get rid of the depressing rains. The Quidditch pitch itself was shining in the sunlight and for one fleeting second I thought maybe this would be fun. Perhaps lighthearted activities to bring us together as a team and get to know each other more.

That was before I saw Oliver standing in the middle of the field. His hands were on his hips and next to him were several pieces of fabric and metal poles. I raised a brow. The twins were already there with Ellis, each looking more confused than the last in reference to the clutter before them.

When we arrived at the group, I set my bag down on the rough earth.

Oliver stared back at us. He held out a large basket with a lock on it. “All right. First of all, you lot are late. You’ll be doing laps for that. Second of all, put your wands in here.”

“What?” I said, gaping at him.

“Your wands, Perry. The entire time you’re out here there will be no use of wands.”

I groaned. Nevermind lighthearted activities.


A/N: So that was Chappie 13. I'm pretty excited about this "retreat" situation, but college has now started up again so the updates will come slightly less frequently.

Let me know what you think--love it? Hate it (I hope not!)? I'd be happy to answer any questions--I do have a Meet the Author topic!

So let me know :) Chapter 14 will be up as soon as it's finished...between all of my Creative Writing courses.

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