Just to remind everyone who asked, there WILL be a sequel to BTQC. It will pick up right where this one leaves off. Thank you again for reading, reviewing, and putting up with my crazy cliffhangers!
Last time: James and Avery snuggled it up in the hospital.
The kitchens were loud, as they always were. I sat at the head of the table, drumming my fingers against the wood. My bandage had been replaced with a thin slice of plastic, which Madam Bones said would help it not scar.
“Don’t want you looking like your father,” she quipped. Bitch.
She refused to give me an eye patch too.
At least the bandage was clear and didn’t impact my vision. Or Captaining abilities. I hadn’t been flying for two days since I got out of the hospital wing. After the attack (yes, attack) I found out from a very calm Paloma that Lawson had cornered her on her way back from sneaking food from the kitchens and had tried to use the same spell he used on me (Slytherins could only keep so much spell knowledge, you see). She saw him coming, dodged it with a spell, had some words, and then knocked him out with a few well-aimed hexes. Albus was still beside himself and didn’t like the idea of our meeting so close to the dungeons.
I assured him it would be fine, but all the same, Al and Rosey were out patrolling on their shifts.
Avery was next to me at the table again, deep in an argument with Wesley about the Finches. She, like me, thought they were stupid. He, like stupid people, thought they were ace. The air was clear between us, but Lily (who was on the opposite side from me) wasn’t speaking to me since I hexed Wes at the party.
Whine whine whine. Did she know I was in the hospital? With life-threatening injuries? Water under the bridge, Lils.
Bink was on the other side of the table, opposite Avery, probably thinking about asking her out again. He wasn’t speaking to me except for the occasional “how long are you going to take in the bathroom” but I was too wrapped up in everything to give it much thought. He was just mad because I hexed him. Whine whine whine. Deal with it, Legace.
You drop my cousin and then ask to ask out the woman I...am not dating...well, then you deserve to be hexed.
Fred was on his other side, still on a high from Amy’s party. According to him, after we left it was a huge success. He spent the evening spinning her around the dance floor, she opened a ton of presents (he got her some really expensive jewelry and a few frames with pictures of them together), and then they stayed up, snuggling in his bed until Albus ran up there to tell him I’d been mauled (yes, mauled).
Haley Star was there too, looking sweet and nice and stuff. Kissable. But I didn’t fancy her. She didn’t fancy me. I quite liked that. Took the pressure off.
And Avery admitted to being jealous of her. Even though Aves and I weren’t together and were going back to being friends, I didn’t want to shove that in her face. I wouldn’t be kissing Haley Star anytime in the near future.
Unless I was really drunk. Like, Bink-drunk.
Paloma was silent, leaning back in her chair looking like an all-around badass. I still wasn’t sure how she accomplished that considering she was wearing a salmon-pink shirt and had white lines on the tips of her nails. Weird.
The chair scraped against the floor as I stood, looking around at my team. They’d been with me for the entire year (well, most of them). Some of them had been with me for most of my seven years at Hogwarts. Just thinking about this being our last game together was more than I cared to ponder. It made my chest hurt.
“So,” I said loudly and Avery’s conversation died with a very animated, “HA!” to Wesley. “Time to get this meeting started. We have a Final to play against Slytherin this weekend.”
“To win against Slytherin,” Freddie cut in.
“To win against Slytherin,” I agreed with a smile. “This is our last team meeting. So I just want to give you the information you need to get the job done. But first I want to bring light to the recent, erm, situation. The Slytherins...”
“Are trying to take out our entire team Darian Bay style?” Paloma interjected. “Because they aren’t going to get away with it.”
“I know. I know they’re not. I just wanted to tell all of you that you need to watch your back. I underestimated Lawson. He will do anything it takes to win. And if that means slicing open a Chaser or injuring a Beater, he’s going to do it,” I said. “It’s not a game. The teachers will only do something if they see hard evidence and Lawson doesn’t operate like that. We’re on our own. Do not even think about going anywhere on your own. Even the loo from class. Don’t do it. As much as I think you’re great, Haley, I don’t want to play you this weekend.”
“No offense taken,” Haley said with a cheeky grin.
“I just want us to be healthy and play a fair game,” I continued. “I want to win because we are capable of winning, not because Lawson injured us enough to put up a fight.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Don’t get me wrong, though. That team has talent. They wouldn’t have been able to get to the Final without it. But I’m not about to make it any easier for them to get that Cup. It’s mine.”
“Ours,” corrected Avery.
“Mine,” I said, shooting her a wink. “Okay. Now we can talk about the boring Slytherin shit.”
I’m glad to hear from you. And yes, Madam Bones did owl us to tell us about your injury, but assured us you were just fine. Thankfully, as we were both about to Apparate to Hogsmeade. Are you feeling better? What happened? Your explanation of having a cut on the forehead didn’t exactly cover it for me. Care to go into more detail?
I’m glad classes are going well. Good luck on your exams! But I suppose right now you’re concentrated on the Final, right?
Unfortunately, I have to cut this letter short. I’m late for a meeting, but I’ll see you this weekend!
I’ve attached a letter from your father he asked me not to read.
All my love,
I’m glad we got to talk over break. I hope you’re doing all you can to prep for the Final.
I gave four cases to my coworkers to assure I’ll make it, so you’ll see me in the stands that day. I’d like to chat with you before-hand, just to wish you luck.
I’m proud of you.
“Going to tell them?” Lily asked, sitting beside me in the Great Hall. We were at the far end of the table, the nearest person at least twenty seats away.
“Not until after the Final,” I replied, frowning as I skimmed the letters again.
“I don’t blame you,” she admitted. “I still wish you would, though. At least they can make you feel better or something.”
“I don’t want to think about it long enough for someone to make me feel better.” I folded each letter and stuffed them in my pocket.
“Mum could make salmon patties.”
“Don’t want salmon patties.”
“Treason!” Lily said, nudging me and forcing out a smirk. “Come on, James. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
“You can’t promise things like that.”
“We’re going to beat Slytherin.”
“It’ll be a good way to celebrate my last real game.”
“You can join a rec league?” Lily offered softly.
“Oh, joy. My Beaters will be elderly gents hitting each other with bats.”
She rubbed my back. “Fine, fine,” she said. “But it’ll be okay. I believe it will be. You’re too sweet of a person not to have something good happen to you.”
“Karma?” I said. “Do you have any idea the shit I’ve done?” Rejected Avery. “I’m not sweet.”
“You’re sweeter than you think you are.” Lily patted me on the back. “I believe in you.”
“That’s an empty gesture, but I appreciate it, Lils,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t tell anyone I appreciated something you said. It would ruin my I-don’t-have-emotions reputation.”
“Yes, because everyone believes that.” She rolled her eyes.
“They do! I have manly mittens.” I smirked and stood up, ruffling her hair so it fell into her dark eyes. “I’ll see you upstairs.” I grabbed my bag, hoisting it over my shoulder, and left the Great Hall.
Not many people were out and about. Two Hufflepuffs were coming up from the basements holding hands. I wondered if they were just together or if Hufflepuffs just really liked holding hands. They brushed past me, feet carrying me down the steep staircase to the bottom. I sat on the bottom step, staring into the basement corridor.
It was dark. I didn’t like basements. I hadn’t since I was a kid and Teddy locked me in our basement for getting cheeky about Victoire. They broke up, by the way. On-again-off-again rubbish. Victoire was now dating some bulky Russian guy with a horrible mustache. I was in that basement for twenty minutes, but something tried to grab my leg.
I remember that.
It was large. And scary. And real. Definitely real.
My back was to the Entrance Hall, but I could hear a few people passing above, their figures casting shadows toward me for a moment while they passed. Unless someone looked straight down, I was concealed.
Which was good, considering there was conflict afoot.
“Don’t tell James.”
Oh bloody great.
I scooted more toward the shadows.
“I’m not going to tell him,” said a familiar female voice. “Why would I tell him? He’s my cousin.” Oh, Rosey. You cannot fool me!
Bink groaned, the shuffling of his footsteps slowing to a stop. “He’s just too into everyone’s business right now, okay? He hexed me for asking if I could take Avery out for drinks.”
“You asked James that?” she asked loudly.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Bink.”
“She looked nice and smelled like those little mints they leave on your pillow at hotels!” he argued.
“What a great pickup line.” Rose’s tone was dry. “I’m sure she’d go for a great guy like yourself.”
“I don’t fancy her.”
“Just like you don’t fancy me.”
“Don’t make this personal, Rose.”
“You’re full of shit. You know that? You are absolutely full of shit, Legace.”
“Last names now?” Bink said. “Is that where this is headed?”
“I feel like I barely know you anyway,” she quipped. “Considering we spent all that time together and then once Fred and Amy got together you decided two people in your group of friends can’t possibly be happy at the same time!” There was a noise that sounded oddly like Rose slapping Bink somewhere with fabric. He groaned. “I don’t give a shit, Bink. I’m not going to tell James.”
He groaned. “I’m sorry, you know.”
“Yeah, right.” I could practically see my cousin’s eye roll. “Don’t bother, okay? I hear McLaggen’s easy now that she got hurt.” Footsteps again.
Burn, Rosey. Good, good burn.
“That’s not fair.”
“A lot of shit isn’t fair,” said Rose dully. “Just don’t let James find out until the last minute, okay? It’ll crush him.”
“Yeah, yeah, all right.”
I had that horrible, anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach. This didn’t sound like normal relationship drama. It didn’t really sound like it had much to do with Bink and Rose.
Their footsteps faded and I walked back up the basement stairs to an empty Entrance Hall, now confused, frustrated, and a little scared.
“Are there any questions you have for me before the Final, James?”
I glanced up from my hands, raising a brow at Professor Longbottom. We had been talking for the better part of twenty minutes about my practice regimen. “Questions?” I said. “Should I have questions?”
“I know the last couple weeks have been difficult for you,” he said. Did Longbottom have a bit of stubble? That was odd. “Especially with you being in the hospital wing.”
“After being hexed,” I said, voice calm. “I was in the hospital after being hexed.”
“James, I believe you,” Longbottom said seriously. “But I can’t do anything about it. I can’t very well be biased.”
“But you know I’m telling the truth!” I said. “You know Lawson did it! Avery stood up for me and he got her arm! She broke his leg! All of the pieces fit together! Fucking Godric, why can’t you do something about it?”
“And Paloma!” I cried. “He went after her too. Who’s it going to be next?”
That question, however, was answered too soon for my comfort.
There was a knock at the door, which stopped Longbottom from responding. He cleared his throat, shot me a look, and then said, “Come in.”
It was Sinatra. She looked flustered, hair under her pointed hat strangely unkept. “Hi, Neville,” she said and then jumped, looking at me in the chair. “Oh, Mr. Potter.” Her eyes went back to Longbottom. “Lawson’s back in the hospital wing.”
“What?” Longbottom said, jaw falling. “What happened?”
I threw open the door, gasping for breath. My eyes scanned the beds. Lawson was to my left, unconscious or passed out. His tongue was lolling a little out of his gob. I looked to the right and Lily was there. She was awake, blankets shoved onto the floor, arms folded angrily.
“Lils!” I said, rushing over to the side of the bed. “What the fuck happened?”
“He cornered Wes and I,” she replied simply.
She didn’t look hurt. I kept checking anyway. I pulled up her arms, looking under them. Shoved her leg to the side and examined her thigh. No wounds. “And then what?” I pressed.
“So I pushed Wes into the wall and cast a shield. His curse bounced back. Git’s out cold.”
“So why are you in here?” I glanced up, meeting her eyes.
“Scorpius Malfoy was there, said something about Wes, and I dropped him.” Her lips tugged into a smirk.
“And he’s not in here?”
“He was fine. Ran like a little Slytherin back to his common room, completely abandoning Lawson.” Lily shrugged. “But when I turned my back he got me. Big gash. Wesley stopped the bleeding, but Madam Bones won’t let me leave. It’s fine now.”
“Are you sure? Did you have a lot of blood loss? Do we need to owl Mum?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “I’ve got a bandage,” she said. “I’m fine.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed, finally calming down and letting out a sigh. “So let me get this straight,” I said. “Lawson came after you and Wes. His curse rebounded on him. You cursed Malfoy. He got you before ditching…so how did Sinatra find out?”
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Lily said. “She might have rounded the corner when he hexed me.” She smirked. “He has a detention every day for the rest of the school year and is banned from the Final.”
I stared. Open-mouthed. Stunned.
“You got Malfoy banned from the Final,” I said gleefully. “I should say something cheeky about wanting to play fair and have everyone on their team at one hundred percent, but I don’t give a fuck. You’re the best baby sister ever.” I grabbed her, pulling her into a hug, but then immediately let go since she winced at me touching her back wound.
My sister had a back wound.
My brother hexed gits in the hallway.
I was having a really good month.
“Did you get in trouble for anything?” I asked.
“No evidence,” Lily replied, her arrogant smirk back. “So no, I didn’t.”
“Will you be able to play okay with your back problem?”
“I’ll be fine,” Lily insisted. “I promise.”
“Does Wesley know you wear the pants in the relationship?”
“That’s sexist, James,” she said. Then paused. “Yes, he does.”
“So let me get this straight,” Freddie said, looking at me upside-down as he lay off the side of his bed. Victoria was on his chest. “Malfoy isn’t playing this weekend? He’s out? That’s fantastic. Fucking fantastic.”
Amy pulled Victoria off Fred and onto her lap. “Sounds like you guys got rather lucky,” she noted. “Especially with Lawson being as vicious as he is. I can’t believe someone would go to those lengths to win. Do you think he’ll try and go after you, Freddie?”
Fred shrugged. “I can stick up for myself. I’m tough.”
“Clearly you’ve got the brains for it,” Bink called over. He had been quiet most of the night and I wondered if it had anything to do with what he wasn’t supposed to tell me. At least he seemed to have gotten over me hexing him, which was nice of him since I left a nice shiny bruise under his left eye from where his face hit the left side of the table when he went down.
“Don’t be a jackass,” Fred said loudly. “I would put Lawson right back in the hospital wing. I heard he brought a change of clothes down there to make it homey.”
“Well, I’ll wear my lucky socks for you regardless,” Amy said, leaning down to kiss Fred.
I looked away, pretending to gag. I wasn’t sure why I still did this, but it was a habit that stemmed from growing up with Fred. He kissed a lot of girls.
“You have lucky socks?” Fred asked, laughing into her lips. “Are they actually lucky?”
“Of course,” Amy replied. “Every time I’ve worn them we’ve won our match. And I’ve gotten great marks on tests. I keep them in the same drawer, put them on the same way. We won our third place match against Hufflepuff when I was wearing them.”
My eyes were trained on Amy. “Lucky socks?” I said. “Were you wearing them during our Hufflepuff game?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I wanted Gryffindor to beat Hufflepuff.”
I paused, trying to think of what else happened before the Hufflepuff match. What had I worn? What had other people worn? Who went to the match? Who didn’t?
My head was spinning and I barely registered Avery opening the door and walking inside. “AVES!” I shouted. “Go put on what you were wearing before the Hufflepuff match!”
“I don’t know what I was wearing,” she said, startled.
“James,” Fred said warily. “Are you okay?”
“We’re going to lose because of this!” I leapt to my feet, grabbing a stack of unused parchment I was supposed to use for essays, but like I did those. I was a seventh year. “I don’t want any of you doing homework for classes you didn’t do in March. If you skipped a class that week, skip it again.” I started scribbling on the paper.
“Don’t you think this might be a little extreme?” Avery offered, sitting next to me on the bed. “Just putting that out there.”
“No!” I countered. “This is important! Slytherin is not going to win because of my silly oversights as a captain!”
“Fucking hell,” muttered Bink. “I need to do laundry then.”
“I have to bust out the good-luck ducks,” Fred noted.
“I borrowed them,” Bink said. “So now I really have to do laundry.”
I rounded on Bink. “You borrowed the good-luck ducks?” I cried. “Treason! We’re going to lose because of you, Legace! Get your fucking head in the game!”
His eyes widened. “I’ll leave them out to be washed,” he mumbled, sounding scared.
“GOOD.” I shot him a mean look. “This is my team and we are going to WIN.”
“James, are you drunk?” Amy asked.
A day later the entire common room was covered in regulations. We used up all my parchment, easily sped through Freddie and Bink’s, and then swiped Emerson’s because he was a twat and no one liked him. He didn’t need parchment anyway. Not for watching birds.
The walls were covered. The back of the portrait hole, the bars of the staircase, parts of the windows. It was all covered.
Because this was serious.
“You are kidding.” Elizabeth looked at me, brow raised. “James, you know this is bonkers, right?”
I pointed to one of the nearby papers. “Only think it’s bonkers if you thought something was bonkers before the match.”
“I was sick before the match.” She crossed her arms.
My eyes widened. “Sick?” I said. “You better head down to the kitchens and stick your head in the freezer because if you don’t have the sniffles by this time tomorrow we were going to have some serious words exchanged.”
“You cannot possibly want me to get sick before exams.”
“Want?” I said. “No, Lizzy, dearest. This is a Gryffindor requirement.”
She shot me a look. “You’re lying.”
“GET TO THE FREEZER.”
Elizabeth yelped, walking away and giving me a skeptical look over her shoulder.
Damn right, woman.
“You’ve successfully gone mad.” Al was at my shoulder, patting me on the back. “You do realize most of Gryffindor is terrified to approach you, right?”
I looked over, glancing at his outfit. Okay. Sweatervest. That was what he always wore anyway. Good job, Al.
“Good,” I said with a firm nod. “They should be. This is a legend. This game is going to make the history books of Scotland.”
“Scotland?” he said dryly. “You think so?”
“The Scottish nation will never again be the same,” I said, eyes closing triumphantly. “I am single-handedly going to change time. Aren’t you proud?”
“The proudest.” Al rolled his eyes and patted my back again. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”
Things were going well. It was only a couple days until the match. Everyone was following my regulations. Since Lawson was still in and out of the hospital wing with complications from his backfired spell, he hadn’t offed any of my players. Scorpius Malfoy already had his first detention, which I heard from a few people consisted of scrubbing the dungeons with his own toothbrush.
Okay, they didn’t say a toothbrush.
Things were on an up-swing. Especially after I forced Wesley into his pair of jeans that ripped a few days after the Hufflepuff match.
It wasn’t my fault he wore them the day before.
The game was only a few days away and the team was working harder than ever on the pitch. Enough to make a captain pretty damn proud. Lily was catching the Snitch. Haley was flying hard and catching the Snitch when Lily took a water break. Paloma almost knocked Freddie unconscious after he made a remark about Al’s studying abilities.
Al had assured me no one had been naked recently.
Bink, Freddie, and I were passing like pros, especially after we locked ourselves in the locker room Tuesday after practice watching the Tornadoes tapes.
Over and over and over.
“That one’s going to be you,” Bink had said, pointing at the arrogant sod who was doing a goal dance.
I didn’t have the heart to tell them.
Avery was playing exactly how Avery had always played.
“If you score on Flynn,” I said to them at practice Wednesday morning, “Keep the Quaffle. It doesn’t happen often.”
Freddie then tried to keep the Quaffle the one time he put it through a hoop, so Avery punched him in the arm. He tried to file an assault claim, so Lily punched him.
I tried to focus as hard as I could on just winning the Final. It was now all I had left. The reports started to trickle in about scouts being at the match, but I immediately tossed the paper away and started studying.
Okay, I started looking at the pages and trying to figure out why certain letters were shaped differently than others. Can you blame me? Honestly.
Other than Quidditch, the most I had to think about was exams.
But I tried not to dwell on her. About our time spent in the hospital.
I felt better about everything, but my stomach still scrunched up when I thought about it. At least we were closer to where we had been before. We allowed ourselves to be closer. I held her. She slept against me. She trusted me again.
But then I leaned in.
Godric, why did I lean in?
So I had to keep my distance. If this was going to work, I needed to keep everything in check. She was doing a nice job, but I was a disaster. Wished she would stop wearing bloody tight clothing. It wasn’t even that tight! Just tighter than, you know, a huge bulky sweater or mumu.
What a terrible name for a piece of clothing.
The door squeaked a little when she pushed it open on Friday night. She was in her pajamas, cotton shorts and a baggy Tornadoes t-shirt I’d gotten her years ago when my parents took us to a game. Godric, she was beautiful. Hair sort of messy. No makeup. No lip stuff. None of that eyelash curling torture. Just Aves.
“Busy?” she asked, fingers curled around the doorframe.
I motioned to the Charms book that was open on my lap. “Obviously.”
“Obviously not,” Avery corrected with a brief smile. She slipped in and closed the door. “Where are the roommates this evening?”
“Emerson’s out being … Emerson.” I grinned and closed the book with a loud snap. “Bink’s at the pub trying to flirt with Gaia. Fred’s at Ravenclaw. I’ve offered to get him some Ravenclaw robes since he’s over there so often, but he said he likes red better than blue. So simple-minded, Fred Weasley.”
“He fits in nicely.” Avery smiled a bit and took the book from my lap, placing it on the bedside stand. “So you have some time?”
“I do.” I nodded and scooted over, watching her climb into bed beside me. I covered her legs with the blankets, figuring she might be cold. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“The Final in the morning,” she replied fondly, getting comfortable and tugging the blanket to her middle. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t up here pouring over notes.”
“Just Charms,” I replied with a small laugh. “I put away the Quidditch notes a few minutes ago.”
“Are you nervous?” she asked, her eyes on the ceiling.
I took a deep breath, chest suddenly aching. “Yeah. I am.”
“Me too.” Avery’s hand found mine, clutching it tighter than usual. “I’m nervous too.”
“Don’t be,” I said. “You’re brilliant.”
“You’re talented,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “You got this far on talent.”
“Have you thought about after, yet?” she asked after a pause, rubbing her lips together. She still wasn’t looking at me. “About what happens after neither of us get tryout offers?”
I shrugged. “I’ve tried not to think about it.”
“Graduation is getting closer.”
I squeezed her hand and let out a small sigh. “We’ll get through it,” I said. “I promise, Aves.”
Avery turned to me, her green eyes reflecting my confident expression. “You always promise.”
“And has it ever not been okay?” I squeezed her hand again.
“I hope you’re right.” Avery moved to her side and kissed me on the cheek. Then she put her hand on my chest. “I really hope you’re right this time, James, because I don’t know what to do.”
“You can do everything.” My free hand went to her hair, smoothing out strands against her back. “I know you can.” I wondered about her. What would she do without Quidditch? She had a list on her bedroom wall since first year rating the teams she wanted to be a part of. All of them. Even the International ones, though they were near the bottom.
What would Avery Flynn be without Quidditch?
She’d still be everything she is. She’d still be beautiful and talented and funny and unbelievably smart.
But there would be something missing. Something that is always there on the pitch. That determination in her face. That look in her eyes. The way she grins out there is so much different than when she’s in the castle.
I have a feeling I’m the same way, but I’m not brave enough to ask anyone if that’s true.
“I could try to work at Flourish and Blotts or something,” Avery said after a while. She sounded sleepy.
“You could,” I offered, even though the thought of her behind the counter at a bookshop made me want to hit something. “Or at a Gringotts branch or something in the country. Something where you can dress up nice.”
“I’m not going to be a stripper, James,” she said.
“I didn’t mean that!” I cried, pulling her tight against me so she couldn’t hit me. “I wouldn’t want you to do that anyway.”
“And why not?”
I shrugged a little. “I don’t like feeling jealous.” I kissed the top of her head.
“I don’t either,” Avery said, her fingers splaying out on my stomach. “We should get a list together. Of things we can do. Maybe they’ll still be okay with giving us entry level jobs. Like mail clerk for the Magpies or something.”
I grimaced. The idea of being in a mailroom, hearing cheers from the crowd in the same facility. Godric, that sounded like slow torture.
“Yeah, maybe,” I said with a smile, trying to stay supportive.
Even worse than picturing me in that mailroom, was picturing her.
The girl who perched up on the hoops when she was furious with me. She belonged in the air. I had to do something.
I pulled her close, waiting for her to fall asleep. Then I tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and moved to my desk.
Dear Lester McMathis,
I know I’m the last person you want to hear from. I assume that by now, my name is cancer in your office based on threats, money, or whatever else one man in particular uses as a weapon against people he doesn’t favor. I know this already. And I don’t want to talk about me.
I want to talk about Avery Flynn.
I’m sure you’ve heard her name. You’ve scouted enough Hogwarts games in your seventeen years to know exactly who I’m talking about. Keeper. Gryffindor. Medium build. A little slender. Dark hair. Those fierce green eyes. Yes, you know the ones I’m talking about because two years ago there was a feature in the sports section of the Prophet on a slow day about Hogwarts Quidditch and half the article was taken up by a headshot of her.
Because she is the talent.
Avery Flynn has a save percentage you wouldn’t believe. It’s over 95%. The other Keepers at Hogwarts are around the 85% range. She survived a shoot-out during our second match of the season, saving all three Quaffles and giving us the victory we fought hard for. In every year she has been a starter, her save percentage has been consistent.
She is the talent of Hogwarts that you will regret not scooping up simply by listening to someone’s word or threats or money.
Avery Flynn is dedicated. I have Captained her for three years and she has the attitude on and off the pitch that a good professional player needs. She takes over in a leadership role when she needs to, and follows orders directly. She arrives early to every practice and stays late.
I am not asking you to sign this girl. Or even give her a tryout.
I’m asking you to come to our Final match tomorrow and just watch her.
You’ll figure out quickly that she is the piece your team is missing. I know this because I’ve been watching their tapes all year.
Your Keeper dives too much. She’s good. She has to be good. But you can mold Avery into the style you want. Your Keeper is still playing Falcons’ style. She’ll never stop, considering she was drafted into the Falcons. Your reserve is also injured on average twice a month.
Not good stats.
Just give Avery a look. If you don’t like what you see, at least you got to see what will hopefully be a good Gryffindor win, my last as Captain.
Tickets are enclosed.
I look forward to seeing you there.
James S. Potter
Thank you all for reading! I am so excited about these last few chapters that round out the story. Just a reminder, there is a sequel! So there will be more BTQC that picks up quite literally just after this one. You'll see why when you get to the end. :)
Please feel free to share favorite quotes, thoughts, and tell me if you have any lucky items like socks or ducks!
And how you think Gryffindor is going to do in the FINAL.
Dramatic! Thanks again for reading!
Next: The Quidditch Final, a good luck, and Clint Lawson is right (for once).
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