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Just A Friendly Little Game Of Quidditch | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts Characters:None Genres: Action/Adventure, Humor Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 2 Summary: Quidditch is an amazing sport! It can also become all encompassing…just as many things in life may be. The wonderful thing about some situations is that as intense as they seem, they are still magical when viewed through a child’s eyes. It’s a good thing to remember, and sometimes a fun lesson to learn. "Youse get my drift?" Hitcount: Story Total: 4500 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: Another tale from Spenser's Universe; seperate but with general respect to canon. Spenser has not attempted any physical harm to Rolf...yet. |
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“It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.”–Babe Ruth “You fly like a Muggle! Pull the broom up when you bank to the left and stop trying to hold it with both hands! No! No, you’re doing it all wrong! Ignore the Quaffle and concentrate on the Bludger! You! What is your name?” “Ma…Malone sir. Melanie Malone. I’m…I’m sorry Mr. Breaker.” “Yes, you are! You are totally incompetent as well!” the Dutchman screamed at the child. “I have no idea why you were permitted to participate. If I had leave to be rid of you…” “You don’t however, do you Hans?” a new voice reminded him. The ex-Auror trainee flinched at the words, cursing himself for allowing such a surprise approach. “She, just as all these young people, has been exposed to Quidditch almost since birth. Miss Malone here? Her father was the finest Keeper in Great Britain twenty years ago, and he no doubt began teaching her to fly before she could even walk–-quietly of course. Our team has made tremendous progress over the past two weeks. They will continue to do so if you balance patience with your determination for success.” The young man turned then and limped back to the makeshift bleacher on the side of the field. He relied too much on the cane he had inherited after the war. He hated to display his weakness. His crippled leg was the result one of that war’s battles. He detested more the life debt he still owed and his inability to seek proper revenge on the person…people who had cost his family so much. Hans Breaker looked on at his young employer, and he had the strongest contempt in his eyes. The team had seen it whenever he and the other Wizard interacted, but Breaker either didn’t notice or didn’t care what they thought of the arrangement. It had been an alliance of mutual opportunity. A shining performance at the upcoming Quidditch matches would do much to restore both their reputations in the Wizarding world. It would also bring a form of retribution if their first opponent was indeed who they had been told. Years before, Hans Breaker, who was then Rufus Scrimgeour’s bright new protégé, had challenged Harry Potter in an exhibition duel. He had not merely suffered defeat at that Wizard’s hand, he had been publicly humiliated. It did not matter that it had been his own fault. As is all too often the case, he refused to place any of the blame on himself. His ensuing forced resignation from the British Auror service, the barely veiled demands that he return to his native Holland where he was held in corresponding contempt, his inability to find legitimate work there in polite society,; it was all because of Potter and his friends. Yes, he would show the tolerance his benefactor required, at least in front of him. No, the whelp was actually right. The children had made significant progress, and he could not afford to be impatient now. “Cornfield, Blitherton, take up positions on either side of that goal,” he called to the now idle Beaters. “Enough horseplay! Get to work! Where is that new reserve Keeper? You…I want you to work dodging their Bludgers while the practice Quaffle comes at your position. The rest of you form up and execute the figure-eight play that we demonstrated last Tuesday. You’ve had time to work with it, so it had better be perfect. If I see anyone climb above six feet into the air, the entire team will run…I said run the perimeter of the pitch, brooms held above your heads. You will do that until the sun sets, or until I become sick of your endless whining.” Yes, Hans Breaker was wise enough to know that vengeance was best savored slowly as if it were a fine burgundy. He would not allow these younglings to fail him. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it Ginny! You’ve seen the backlog of work we have in the shop. You know the problems we’re experiencing. The elves’ union alone is ready to strike any moment if I don’t give them some days off soon.” “That’s more than you’ve taken yourself recently Harry,” she accurately pointed out. Ginny was the last person who wanted to interfere with the dreams they were building, but the rest of us had been watching her grow more and more exhausted with the increasing stress of it all. The one who looked really awful was Harry. He had unfortunately… no, perhaps that wasn’t the correct adjective. Harry was simply the victim of his own success. During his final year of school, we had all undertaken the task of building the perfect racing broom. The end result was truly remarkable, and not just for a bunch of school kids. Harry had then taken Tromed Love on to win a very prestigious broom race, and, in the process, brought down a number of Death Eaters trying to interfere. Needless to say, he received a lot of attention for the whole thing. That, in the long run, eventually helped his plans, but it was also one more thing destroying his private life. Harry and Ginny were…are the two finest broom jockeys I’ve ever seen, on or off the Quidditch field. After the war, everyone naturally expected Harry to enter the Auror service. Those of us who were close to him in those days weren’t at all surprised though when he instead opted to pursue his other interest. Proper production methods, effective marketing techniques, research and development, temperamental organized elf labor (yes, Hermione did stick her nose into that), unreliable material suppliers, government regulation and general interference–-these had replaced Anaconda-pus and his All-Ugly Accordion Orchestra in Harry’s running battles. “It’s a very busy time right now,” Harry continued. “I have the two-broom contract for those Freedonians, that cargo-carrying broom for that Russian lint miner, the high-performance sports model for Sir Sean Connery. George, Fred…you remember what it was like when you first opened your store.” “I’d love to help you here Harry, but you see…I’m afraid that I’m dead. Our last birthday, everyone sent me baskets of white lilies, so I must be,” Fred told him, trying hard to keep a straight face. “I received at least a dozen sets of earrings that day,” George continued. He was less successful with repressing the smile. “Spenser, you might want to wake up and take notes now and try not to kill anyone off yourself.” In lieu of a reply, I stood and staggered across our kitchen to the oversize coffee cauldron on the counter. It and Professor McGonagall’s nice fondue pot had been my two favorite wedding gifts. I’m not sure how, but I made it there with my eyes closed. Someone, Luna I expected, filled my cup and then steered me back to the table. By the way, when you host a dinner party it is extremely impolite to go for three days without sleep beforehand. “Harry this is a wonderful opportunity for young people all across England. Kingsley is extremely excited about the whole matter. He told me that even Her Majesty has shown an interest in the project. The Queen is actually a very great Quidditch fan, albeit obviously a discrete one.” Arthur Weasley’s comments, more than even the good pumpkin spice coffee, caused me to finally sit up and open my eyes. I saw both Ginny and Luna giving me patient smiles but shaking their heads at the same time. “Mr. Weasley, I’m not saying it’s not a fantastic idea. Although I don’t think that I completely understand what you are attempting to establish,” Harry told him. “Oh? Well quite simply, we are looking to introduce nine and ten-year-olds to the sport, but under severely controlled conditions. The Ministry will permit a number of old Dustdivers to have their enchantment modified. The brooms will only be able to fly on a designated Quidditch pitch, and then at a greatly reduced speed.” “Greatly reduced speed Dad? Those antiques are slower than Ron after three helpings of Mum’s roast beast with stewed potatoes,” George mumbled to his father. “Exactly,” Arthur said smiling at his son. “This will be the first partial endorsement of underage magic in memory. These children aren’t even permitted to own a wand yet, but, while their brooms are in measured proximity to the chosen field, they will be able to fl,y and play, and promote that activity at an earlier opportunity.” “They want you to coach Little League Harry.” I had no idea why my head was resting on the table that way. “Please wake up Spenser, or there will be no moonberry pie for you after supper,” Luna admonished. Crack! “Oh dear, did you hurt yourself standing up so quickly?” “Ouch! Yes, I did, thank you very much.” I carefully sat back down, she filled my coffee cup again, and I grinned and winked at her in return. “Mr. Weasley, to answer your question, the one you were about to ask that is, Little League is a Muggle organization for younger people. It’s essentially the same thing that you have in mind, but with baseball instead. The short people get to have some fun, the parents get to have the occasional fist fights, and the schools have a pool of experienced athletes from which they can recruit later.” “Muggle baseball? How fascinating! You really must take me to a game one day. I would greatly appreciate it young man. Harry, please consider this.” “Why me sir? Ron would love to do it. Actually, anyone in your family could.” “Harry, you were the youngest Seeker for Hogwarts in over a century. You were the Gryffindor captain. You are also married the only person in the British Isles who can outfly you.” Ginny paused there, raised her eyebrows and gave him an evil smile, daring Harry to say something in return. “When Ron and Hermione return from Wales we’re going to blackmail him into…I mean discuss Ron taking the lead with refereeing the league. Spenser, you’re nodding off again.” “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy rewriting Harry’s last year at Hogwarts–-tell what really happened. Harry’s biographer is a fantastic Muggle lady, her last book is a great work of fiction, and…” “Tell them why you’re doing it Spenser.” I could feel Luna’s stare, and I didn’t have to look over to know she was smiling at my red face. “…and I…and I didn’t like the way the author told everyone that you’re supposed to marry that Wart Scallywagger.” “It’s Rolf Scamander. I’m sure that he is a very sweet person, and perhaps in another alternative universe he and I are very happy together.” “Grumble, grumble, grumble…ZZZZ…grumble, grumble!” I had an evil, evil wife, and the kiss on the forehead didn’t help my mood. It was time to change the subject. “Harry, if the truth be told, it really is a good thing they’re suggesting here, and for a lot of reasons. It won’t bite into your time that much either. My dad coached Muggle soccer; that’s our name for your football. He did it for two summers. It only took four or five hours a week.” “Besides which, it will be great advertisement for your brooms.” Ginny shot Fred a harsh look. Fortunately, we saw that he caught her message. No joke shop endorsements on their jerseys. “You know Harry, George and I learned the hard way that you need to balance things out a bit when you run a business, especially at first. It almost buried us back then, and we’re not even married…at least I don’t think we are. I’m still missing that week last May on the Spanish coast.” “A lovely girl…a beautiful ceremony dear Gred. I haven’t cried so hard since your funeral.” “I understand that was lovely as well Forge. I hope that everyone understood when I decided not to attend. Did I have a nice headstone?” “It was genuine Muggle Styrofoam brother mine.” “George, Fred hush!” Arthur admonished, but it was his turn to restrain his laughter…his pleasure at knowing they hadn’t suffered the fate from the book. “Harry please think about our request. It would be marvelous. It really would.” Harry was quiet then and we could actually see the fatigue pulling at his face. He must have felt it himself. A moment later he rubbed his temples, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He was almost convinced. “I doubt that Ron will be able to help your side out much if he does referee, but it looks like you have a really pretty assistant coach standing there,” I said pointing over to Ginny. On cue, she stepped over, and put her arm around him. “I’ll tell you what, Luna and I will announce the games. I understand that she has some experience at that.” A full minute passed. Harry finally exhaled heavily as if in surrender, kissed Ginny on the cheek, and pulled her in closer to him. That got a giggle and her own kiss in return. “I’ll help you Mr. Weasley.” “Please Harry…it’s still Arthur, a privilege afforded sons-in-law.” “Yes, of course Arthur. I am getting better at that. When do I get to meet our team?” “I arranged for them to come to Hogwarts on Sunday Harry. None of the house teams are practicing that day,” Ginny suddenly said. He turned and gave her an accusing glare, but a second later another smile as well. “Knew I’d accept did you Mrs. Potter? Any more surprises?” “Ahem, just one more Harry,” Mr. Weasley interrupted. He wasn’t smiling. “There will naturally be other teams involved. Your first match will be in just over a month, and they have already begun to train.” Harry released Ginny, and took a step forward, his face again serious. “Who will we be facing sir?” “Draco Malfoy’s team Harry.” “Can’t you sleep Ginny?” He could somehow sense more than see or hear her there. Regardless, Harry knew she would respond to his nearly silent question. “I rarely can when you don’t Harry. What’s wrong?” she asked in return. His odd sleeping habits had become more the norm than the exception in recent months, and the reason was always the same–-the broom shop. This time it was something more, and she already knew the answer to her question. “I shouldn’t have agreed to help Ginny. I don’t see any good coming of this team.” Ginny rolled over then, and by the faint moonlight barely visible through the curtains she saw that he was sitting up in bed. Rearranging her pillows, Ginny imitated him, and it gave her a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. “No Harry, it’s exactly what you…we need. Dobby is more than capable of supervising the production elves if you are gone for an hour or two now and then. They have a great deal of respect for him after all he has done for us.” Ginny smiled then and knew Harry was as well at that. The house-elf’s accomplishments really hadn’t included his dying for all of them, although Dobby had been extremely flattered to be deemed such a hero in the book. “Ginny, I…” “No Harry. Please listen to me. You’re working fourteen or fifteen hours a day. Even helping you in the business office as I am, I’m rarely with you. Fleeting moments at work, perhaps an occasional meal. You didn’t even want to go to the party this evening, did you?” “Spenser slept through most of it. I’ve never seen anyone use a portion of their mashed potatoes as a pillow before,” he tried to joke. “It’s because he is trying to work as long and as hard as you are writing the missing moments from our story. He knows that no one will probably ever read them other than our families. I have absolutely no idea what a fan fiction web site is.” “I’ll have him explain it to you when he wakes up. Really I am…” “Harry, let me finish. You saw what his overworking is doing to Luna. Have you seen what yours is doing to me?” Ginny noticed just of a shadow of an understanding nod there in the dark. She knew she had to make one last point. “Harry, we haven’t really talked yet about starting a family, but if you have so little time for me now, how much will you be able to give our children someday.” “Ginny, it won’t always be this way.” “Won’t it, Harry?” She laid her pillow back down then, pulled the blankets over herself again, and deliberately turned her back on him. It was time for both of them to think about what they had just discussed and about everything that had still gone unsaid. I had learned long before never to accept warm cocoa at night from Luna without first checking it for extra ingredients. Twice I caught her slipping me a sleeping draught, and while I acknowledged her concern and good intentions, I also stressed the need to pump out the chapters for my latest book. The girl is very astute; she knew I was driven by pointless jealousy. Luna is also very, very clever. She soaked my toothbrush in that potion. I was asleep with the dental floss still dangling from my mouth. Actually, it was just as well. If I was still that tired after a full eight hours unconscious, then I must have been in as bad of shape as she suggested. I also owed it to Harry and Ginny to be somewhat alert during the first practice. The two Potters were already at the Hogwarts field when we arrived the next morning, and Ginny broke away for just a few seconds to present me with a large thermos of strong, hot coffee. She exchanged smiles with Luna after seeing that we had brought one as well. Returning to Harry, the two began to study the clipboard he held. I correctly guessed that it was the roster for their new team. Looking over at the kids, I saw how he had his work cut out for him. I’ve seen a number of movies over the years about ragtag teams that eventually rose to lopsided excellence. I hoped Harry hadn’t. I thought I was looking at such a motley group, and I did not want to be accused of plagiarism. It was going to be hard to avoid it with this story. Still, Harry didn’t look anything at all like Walter Matthau. After conjuring and then filling a coffee cup the size of a fishbowl, Luna and I wandered over to join the pair on the field. As the game announcers, we were probably not permitted to help this particular group too much. I was sure that we didn’t have such rigorous restrictions as Ron and his referees would, and, in fact, I have seen teams with their own play-by-play announcers, but it was really a moot point since I was hopeless with Quidditch. It couldn’t hurt though, it would probably help us in fact, observing their operation up close. “Let’s see, four boys and three girls–-two of them are ten-year-olds and the rest nine,” Harry quietly said with his eyes glued to the paperwork. “Seven? No reserves?” Ginny asked, moving in closer to confirm what he had just told us. “No, we’re getting a late start. The other three teams began to meet weeks ago,” Harry explained. “We’ve essentially been given what was left of the applicants. It will be bad if someone is injured.” “I count eight people,” Luna announced. We finally broke away from the clipboard to watch the children walking toward us. Sure enough, there was another player there. Harry double-checked the list, but then shook his head confused with the numbers. “Which one of youse is the coach?” the lead girl asked in a cocky tone. With the oversize wool hat the girl was wearing, I didn’t know she was a she until she spoke. We also discovered something else. “You’re an American?” Harry asked, more amused than surprised. “She sounds as if she’s from New York,” I pointed out. “That’s about as far from Oregon as you can get without a passport. Yankees or Mets kid?” “Neither. I root for the Brooklyn Dodgers. Who are youse…the new ambassador?” “Nah, I’m the comic relief. I went to school here my last year, met a girl, and decided to stick around. You do know that the Dodgers moved to Los Angeles forty-some years ago. Didn’t you get the memo?” “Well I figure that it’s just a matter of time until they come to their senses and go back. Let me guess, you’re probably a Red Sox fan.” “Seattle Mariners and California Angels,” I told her. She wasn’t paying any attention though. Her concentration had shifted to Harry and Ginny. “You’re the coach. No…both of youse are,” the girl said pointing at the two. “My name is Sawyer, but youse can call me Sawzall. I’m one of your new Beaters…me and my good, personal friend Marcy here. You can call her Spuds, on account of her folks havin’ that potato farm next to where I’m livin’ with my aunt and her lazy husband.” “I’ll decide which positions you’ll play after I’ve seen you in the air,” Harry said then, stepping past her and up to the other girl. “Marcy, I don’t see you on this roster. What’s your last name?” “McKenzie,” she shyly whispered, and took a step back. Sawzall moved between the two as if having to defend her friend. “Hey back off with the browbeatin’ buddy!” she defiantly told him. “Who do you think youse are big man, Harry freakin’ Potter?” Harry put a hand to his forehead, brushed the hair aside, and revealed his scar. If Elvis had appeared before her, Sawzall wouldn’t have reacted any differently. Her eyes almost shot out of her head. “It’s all right Margaret,” Spuds told the other girl. “Don’t call me Margaret,” Sawzall said out of the side of her mouth, suddenly turning Weasley red. I knew that all of us were suddenly reminded of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin aversion to her own first name. Oh, and by the way, yes, she and Remus are very much alive as well. I’m living in a much different universe here. Ginny came forward then and knelt down next to the small girl. “Sweetheart, Marcy how old are you?” she asked. Ginny, just as all of us had, saw that Spuds was the smallest of the children gathered there. “I…I just turned eight ma’am. I know that you’re supposed to be at least nine years old, but I really wanted to play, and I just thought that maybe…” “You thought that maybe we could bend the rules a bit for you, didn’t you? Well the Ministry allowed my husband to enter the Tri-wizard competition when he was just fourteen, so I’m sure that we can convince them to allow you to participate. We really are short of people.” Spuds’ face broke into the happiest of grins at Ginny’s words, and the two were instantly friends. “One thing however, please don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old yet.” It was Ginny’s turn to smile now. Harry moved past them then to study the rest of the group. To one side stood three boys, all of whom wore identical green sweatshirts, black jeans, and gray tennis shoes. One boy had dreadlocks and reminded me of Lee Jordon. The second was oriental and had hair almost as long as the first. The third had the appearance of someone from a Mediterranean country. When he spoke, he confirmed this with a strong Italian accent. “We’re the Hirschberg brothers. I’m Mario. This is Yoshi,” he said indicating the Japanese boy. “This is Jacque. He’s from Trinidad.” “We were adopted naturally.” “We’re triplets.” “We were all born on the same day and at the same moment in our respective countries.” “We really are triplets.” “People can usually tell us apart.” “Our parents sometimes have trouble.” “We think that they are just pretending though.” Harry head, all of our heads, were going back and forth trying to keep up with which brother was speaking. Regardless of how the three had been brought together, they were speaking and acting just the way George and Fred often did. “We’d like to play the Chaser positions if we may Mr. Potter,” they finished in unison, completing the similarity. “That…might just work,” Harry said, grinning back at the brothers. Ginny joined him then, and they turned to speak to the remaining three. The boy there was not much taller than Spuds, and so thin that his portrait might resemble a penciled stick figure. He had a sleepy expression (which no doubt matched mine at that moment–ah, coffee!), an oversize straw hat, and a stalk of grass protruding from his mouth. In every way, he resembled a stereotypical hayseed. “My name is Anthony Brittlehammer,” he said just as Harry opened his mouth to speak. “Anthony Brittlehammer? Are you any relation to the Anthony Brittlehammer who played Keeper for the Northfield Lancers?” Ginny asked the boy. I could see that both Harry and Luna also recognized the name. “That would be my grandfather. I was named for him ma’am…I mean Mrs. Potter,” he told her in with slow drawn-out Scottish brogue. “I generally go by Radar after someone on the Muggle television. I didn’t feel very good about playing for Mr. Malfoy’s team. I didn’t like that Dutchman he hired,” the boy said, answering Harry’s question before he could ask it. “How did you…?” Now we knew why Radar had that name. “Wait one. What Dutchman?” Harry asked. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was. “Hans Breaker Mr. Potter. Do you know him?” Harry’s face grew somber, and he slowly nodded. “The last time we met I gave him a coat of feathers, and then hurled him into the lake over there when he turned his wand on the audience.” Ginny was standing next to the final two children, alternating her attention between the clipboard and the girls’ faces. “Jane Doe and Joan Smith?” If they were at all surprised that Ginny didn’t believe the names, they didn’t show it at first. Harry joined her, and it was obvious that his curiosity was aroused as well. The girls, finally seeing that they had been discovered, pulled back their hair to reveal their pointed ears. Forest elves. The larger elf variety did indeed resemble humans more than any of their distant cousins, even more than Santa’s elves, and they could easily pass as human children. “Why?” Harry simply asked. “We greatly love your sport. We wanted to play,” the one to the left…Jane began to explain. “My name is Ashelle,” the other continued, “and this is my cousin Peatree. We are of the elf clan Montegoo. We have their permission to participate Friend Potter. Do we have yours?” Harry was deep in thought at this new revelation. It was yet one more that had been delivered to us that morning. I was beginning to understand why some of these children had wanted to play for Harry’s team. Other coaches may not be as willing to accept a few of them. I was wondering if the Ministry would approve of these non-humans. I was wondering if we really had to tell them. “Have you ever flown a Wizard broom?” Both elves nodded at Harry’s question. “We would need your promise that you would abide by the same rules the others are subject to. We would need you to hide your ears a bit better as well.” Again, they nodded. “How old are you really? I know firsthand how difficult it is to determine that?” “We are both ten years old of course,” Ashelle said. Both were in a jovial mood, and I, for one, decided that they were probably closer to a hundred and ten. It was Harry’s turn to nod and grin again as well. He stepped back to join Ginny, and together they gave their new team long consideration. His hesitant mood was gone now. I could see something in his eyes that hadn’t been there for a good many months. It was an energy and a real enthusiasm for something apart from Ginny and his business. She saw it too. She gave him a one-armed hug and kept it there around him. “Well let’s get to work then,” Harry finally announced. “I’ll leave it to you as to what you’d like your team name to be. Something catchy for the story Spenser will probably write about all this.” “Hey, hey, hey! I have just the thing,” Sawzall announced. Harry really didn’t play Quidditch his last year at Hogwarts. Everyone was far too busy trying to find the Horcruxes, and what little spare time we had away from that and schoolwork was spent building the racing broom. Well yes, Harry did take every opportunity to spend time with Ginny, albeit in secret. There was no need to make a target out of her. Looking back, I think the first time that I saw Ginny and him play was in a friendly exhibition game with a Canadian team. He even talked me into participating. I retired from the sport immediately thereafter, having depleted the local bandage supply. That Sunday on the Hogwarts field, Harry impressed the flower fluff out of me and his new team as well. Ginny and he spent a good half hour performing some of the craziest, yet most perfectly executed, maneuvers I had ever witnessed. The old favorite, where they threw themselves from their respective brooms, rolled in the air, and then magically summoned them back had the children covering their eyes in frenzied amazement. The coaches then handed out the modified brooms, and one by one tested everyone in a variety of positions. Both elves proved to be highly proficient as Seekers, and the one, Ashelle, demonstrated an equal aptitude as a Chaser. I was more than a little amazed when she actually volunteered to act as our reserve, rationalizing that she could fill in anywhere, and could occasionally alternate games with her cousin. Spuds and Sawzall were, in fact, pretty good as Beaters, although the former was incredibly shy and hesitant at first. Ginny approached and whispered something to the girl that made her almost fall off her broom laughing. To this day I still don’t know what she told her. The Triplets, as they insisted on being called, made believers out of us that they really were. The three seemed to be inside each other’s heads, passing the Quaffle without looking, knowing a brother would be there to accept possession before it was thrown. Sometimes magic worked like that–-where people are so close, they are of a single mind on some level at times. I knew Harry and Ginny were that way. Harry worked the children for four hours, and he was everywhere. The team brooms could only rise thirty feet into the air and travel no faster than twenty miles per hour at best. Utilizing their own normal brooms, both Potters were continually teaching, encouraging, correcting where needed, and above all, learning the players’ capabilities and strengths. They were especially impressed with Radar who had inherited his grandfather’s Keeper talent. Ginny elicited a proud smile when she told the boy that he was already as good as her brother Ron at the goals. Only Ginny, finally pointing out the gaunt looks on their faces, got Harry to release the team for the day. He then amazed the group when he announced additional practices every evening at the Potter’s Hogsmeade farm. Day after day they worked, and any idea I had of portraying the team as amateurish want-to-bees was quickly yanked from my mind. The group improved significantly, and they were having the time of their lives…at least at first. Harry began pushing the team as hard as he was himself, and the strain on both was beginning to show. Six days a week they came together, and no practice lasted for less than three hours. Ginny noticed what was happening first, and she tried to slow Harry down. There was such a thing as over rehearsing, she tried to tell him. He simply countered that they were weeks behind the other teams in preparation. Also, there was no doubt in his mind that Draco Malfoy would be pressing his players at least as hard and looking for any means to cheat. Finally, the children’s families intervened, and during the last ten days before the match there would only be three two-hour practices permitted. Harry was obviously not happy about this interference, and he took it out on all of us. Even Ginny wasn’t immune. That great energy that had first been there was replaced with determined obsession. It was exactly what we had seen when he buried himself in the broom shop before. Everyone was aware of it…everyone except Harry himself. Three days before the game, Ron came by my cottage, and, without really explaining, almost begged me to go with him over to Harry and Ginny’s farm. He didn’t say a word as we walked the forest path there, but the extreme expression he had spoke volumes. Harry had crossed the line somehow. Stepping out onto the field, we could see him in the distance waving his arms and shouting something at Sawzall that we couldn’t make out. When Ginny tried to pull Harry back, he, in turn, actually physically pushed her away. Ron and I were running at this point. As we approached, I could see that the tough Brooklyn girl was actually crying. It was something that I didn’t think was possible for her. A moment later she ran off into the house, tears rolling down her face. Ginny was almost that way herself, and I could see Ron riling up in anger at the sight. I then did something completely out of character for me. I walked up to Harry and backhanded him across the face. I wasn’t sure which of us were the more surprised. “Harry, let me tell you a quick story!” I yelled. “It’s about a kid who loses her parents to a drug pusher’s bullets when they’re in the wrong place one afternoon. She ends up being shuffled around to different relatives who couldn’t have less use for the girl. Sound at all familiar? Well this kid turns out to be really great on a broom, even at her age, and she loves nothing as much as Quidditch. She also thought that her coach was the greatest guy in the world…until five minutes ago I’d say.” “Harry, all the children feel the same way about you. You…you’ve changed the past few weeks,” Ginny continued. “Mate, you’re my brother, and I love you, but if Spense hadn’t hit you I would have,” Ron added. The anger fled from Harry’s eyes suddenly, and he turned to look at Ginny. Her pleading expression confirmed what we had told him, and the realization of what he’d done abruptly hit him as hard as I had. Harry dropped his head then, and I could see my old friend reappear. Ginny stepped up to him, and gingerly placed her arms around his neck. He finally brought himself to look at her, and after a minute he nodded as if an unspoken message had passed between them. I was sure that one had. Harry gently broke away then, and slowly walked toward the house. I was sure it was to find Sawzall. “Could you please gather the team Ginny? I…I need to speak with them,” he called back just before going inside. A full minute passed before Ron spoke. “Where did you hear all that Spense?” “Spuds told me. I guess that Sawzall’s aunt and her live-in boyfriend, no they’re not married…they make the Dursleys look like the perfect relatives. What do you think Harry wants to tell the team Ginny?” Maybe I already knew. “The right thing. Harry’s a good man. He just needed to remember that. I can’t believe that you hit him that way.” “I can’t believe you hadn’t yet Ginny,” I replied. “Mr. Hemmingway! What is the meaning of this?” Professor McGonagall almost yelled. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake! Will you please wake up!” “ZZZZZZZ…” “Spenser please wake up. The game is about to begin. Dear…dear…well you did ask for this Spenser. Rolf Scamander!” Luna whispered in my ear. As I snapped upright, I saw both the professor and her cringing when the bones in my neck gave a snapping sound. “Now Mr. Hemmingway, would you please explain what these young ladies are doing down there on the sidelines? Those skimpy costumes the girls are wearing…?” McGonagall asked, shaking her head in patient disbelief. “Actually, one of them is a Hufflepuff fourth-year in drag Professor. They’re cheerleaders. It’s mostly an American tradition, but all my volunteers loved the idea, and…and you clearly aren’t as fond of it.” The headmistress opened her mouth to speak…twice, but finally just shook her head in skepticism. She seemed to surrender this time, but I knew that we would be discussing this use of students at a later time. As the professor walked off, I could barely make out what she was mumbling about insane Yanks. “She’s probably really going to hate this then,” I said as I doffed my cap in Professor Flitwick’s direction, signaling his choral group to begin singing. Somehow, he managed to have the pipe organ I requested match his group. ♫ “Take me out to the Quidditch match! Take me down to the pitch! Buy me some corned beef and Bertie Bott’s! We promise no hex when they take their shots! Then it’s hoot, hoot, hoot for the home team! If they crash it’s a shame! But it’s one, two, three catch that Snitch! It’s the old Quidditch match!” ♫ In reality, Professor McGonagall was extremely pleased that Hogwarts would be hosting the debut game of Quidditch little league. Not only were three of the four coaches Hogwarts alumni, the school hosted the only other large-scale youth program. Over the course of the season, the five remaining games would take place throughout the British Isles, maximizing their exposure in the Magic community. It was an ambitious schedule for such young people, but the rules were modified enough that we hoped they wouldn’t burn out with the experience. We were a bit astonished when we heard what a large sampling of the Wizarding world was to be on hand. Representatives from at least a dozen different countries were there to see how well the new Youth League worked…if it did at all. No pressure. The future of nine and ten-year-olds playing Quidditch was completely on our shoulders. “Bric-a-brac a soda cracker! Bip boom bah! Bugs Bunny! Bugs Bunny! Rah, rah, rah!” the cheerleaders began. “Spenser?” “I’m sorry Luni. I didn’t have that much time to work with them, so I stuck with the classics. Drat! That Hufflepuff didn’t shave his legs like he promised!” “Everyone, I want you to understand a few things. First, you’ve performed brilliantly over the last month. We’ve had perhaps half the training time the others have, yet, from what I’ve seen, you could easily go against any one of the house teams from here at Hogwarts. I’m very proud of you…” Harry told them, and put his arm around Ginny then, “all of you. Thanks Gin.” “Most importantly, remember to have fun,” Ginny added. She gave the team her best smile, and it was infectious among them. “Good afternoon and welcome to the premiere match of the British Youth Quidditch League! Our teams today are the Hogsmeade Dodgers coached my good friends Harry and Ginny Potter. What? No Spenser, I don’t think that sounds at all bias. Pour yourself some more coffee please. Our visiting team is the Brighton Dragons coached by Draco Malfoy and Hans Breaker. No Spenser, he doesn’t have any feathers right now I’m sure.” Even after all those years and knowing full well that Luna would take liberties with the broadcast, Harry and Ginny had to make a conscious effort not to laugh out loud at their friend’s words. They couldn’t hold back though when they suddenly heard snoring over the speaker system. Harry took a moment to look across the field for Malfoy and Breaker. Draco displayed no emotion whatsoever, and he made no effort to look their way. The Dutchman, however, seemed to want to drill into Harry with his angry gaze. The match meant more to the man, Harry decided, than he had first believed. It was going to be an act of revenge for Breaker trying to humiliate Harry and the Dodgers on the Quidditch pitch. Ron descended then on his broom and beckoned the teams forward to inspect their respective Dustdivers. Since, his sister was one of the team leaders, everyone was naturally curious if Malfoy would object to his acting as the referee that day. Surprisingly…amazingly he hadn’t. Ron had been suspicious about that, but Harry had merely shrugged it off when he mentioned it. What they saw there on the field then did bring about a rise in both of them. “Those aren’t the Ministry brooms Malfoy! Those are brand-new Blazing Arrows! Ron yelled. Harry stepped forward, and one of the Dragons willingly handed his broomstick to the opposing coach. It wasn’t a high-performance model, but neither was it the more ordinary Dustdivers. Harry began to carefully study it, while growing thoughtful and quiet. “The rules clearly state that another comparable broom may be substituted if the sanctioned model is unavailable. It seems that there weren’t enough to go around Potter,” Hans Breaker told them in an expectedly arrogant tone. “We’re not cheating Potter,” Malfoy continued. “It will mean more beating you in a fair match. I don’t want any questions lingering in the air when we do. That’s why we’re allowing Weasley here to officiate.” Harry could not help but notice that the old loud, boastful Draco had grown into the same cold, deliberate Wizard his father had once been. It had yet to be seen if the young Malfoy mimicked the older in any other manner. “We accept the Ministry’s judgment on this,” Harry told him, but then turned to the smirking Breaker and matched the Dutchman’s grin. “The rules also state that a team can make corrective alterations to the broomsticks to maximize performance, and I am a broomsmith Hans.” Harry turned away and ensured that the Dodgers had heard what he said. Their own brooms had been modified and improved? He returned then to the coaches’ box to await the start of the game. Perhaps five minutes passed during which the teams took their respective positions and prepared to begin. In the distance Ginny could hear the Hogwarts band playing the school anthem, while student and alumni alike sang along. She looked over to the cheering squad that had been recruited, and then shook her head in amazement that such things might be appropriate. “Rip off their arms! Beat them! Beat them! Tear off their legs! Kill! Kill! Kill! Gooooo Team!” “Harry, I really do believe that Spenser is going to have to get them to tone the cheers down a tad.” “Yes, I’m afraid so Ginny.” The Quaffle was tossed up then, and Mario was instantly on it. The Italian boy feigned a dash to the left, but then held up and performed a roll, passing it to his brother while still upside down. Yoshi easily caught it, but before he could dart forward, two Dragons hit him from either side. The Chaser to the left stole the ball and moved off at amazing speed toward the Dodgers’ goals. Radar didn’t seem to be expecting the maneuver, and he was in the wrong position to block the score. Ginny didn’t need to look at Harry to know that he saw the same thing she did. The boy knew exactly what he was doing. Radar feigned his own move, and as the Quaffle was again passed for a side-hooked throw, the Keeper was able to move his broom in reverse, and easily catch it. A Bludger delivered by Spuds momentarily scattered the opposing players, allowing the Quaffle to be passed to Sawzall who relayed it back to Mario. The two girls took protective positions on either side until his brothers could come in support. The Triplets then began a passing game, rolling and pitching, and confusing the Dragons before finally scoring. Even in the air they could hear Hans Breaker cursing his Keeper for the mistake. Harry watched the man, and suddenly felt Ginny take and squeeze his hand. He gave her a quick look, but then returned his attention to Breaker. Had he been on the verge of becoming that bad? Harry had to wonder. The war was over, and now all that mattered was his life with Ginny. He had no need to be rich and powerful. He hated being famous. He loved building his brooms almost as much as he did flying them. That was why he created them–-for the joy it brought him. For the fun of it. Harry had to grin then, and so did Ginny he saw. They had both realized the same thing. They had already won. The Dragons scored then, but only after Radar was hit in the left arm by a Bludger. It was just enough of distraction for them to get it in, and the goal had taken the combined effort of all the Dragon Chasers. The Quaffle was moved up the field, and they began a series of back and forth exchanges between teams. The Chasers were expending as much energy in defense as they did in trying to deliver the ball to the goals. It was becoming a slow-motion stalemate. Regardless of their young ages, Harry and Ginny both wished that the teams had free flight capabilities at the moment. Suddenly, the Potters saw Sawzall pull up and wave Spuds past her. Still carefully gripping her Beater’s bat, the girl took a firmer hold of the broomstick, and pulled up her knees and then feet to it. To everyone’s amazement then, Sawzall stood up on the broom, and, bending her legs a bit, seemed to steer it forward much like a Muggle surfboard. As she darted ahead, it was guided under her, and able to zigzag and dart about in a way that the Dragons couldn’t match. For what the broom lacked in speed and freedom of upward movement, the Beater was making up in maneuverability. As Sawzall repeatedly sent the Bludger at the opposing team, and continually blocked their flight paths, the Dragons had to concentrate strictly on personal survival. The Dodgers scored three times in rapid succession before she was finally knocked from her broom by a double collision between the Dragon Beaters. Sawzall was taking longer to stand than Harry was comfortable with, and he was again pleased that The Ministry had accepted Ron’s suggestion for protective headgear. Harry wasn’t at all surprised when Ginny jumped from the team box and ran out to the small girl. Instead of joining them, he motioned for his lone reserve player to move and replace the Beater. As the forest elf grabbed a spare bat, and then took to the air, Harry quickly scanned the field for Peatree and the Snitch. He spotted the golden ball at apparently the same instant that the Seeker did, and she was off like a shot in pursuit…or at least as much of a shot as the old broom could match. The Dragon’s counterpart had not yet seen it, but his teammates had, and were excitedly trying to get his attention. Breaker was drowning them out with his own yelling, most of it Wizard profanity (which was turning the nearby grass brown). A glance at Draco showed him to be more thoughtful then intense at the current play, and once again Harry’s attention was piqued. “Harry, help me get her over to the bench,” Ginny asked, bringing his attention back to their injured player. They sat her down and Harry gently removed Sawzall’s helmet. He noted the small letter B that she had painted on the front, no doubt signifying her Brooklyn Dodgers. Well, she had earned that favor, Harry decided. “Where did you learn to fly a broom that way?” Ginny asked the small girl. “Has youse never been on a Muggle skateboard coach? We had a pretty good setup behind Murphy’s Meatpackin’ back home for skatin’…my buds and me we did.” Sawzall grinned at Harry and Ginny, as much at their surprise as to let on that she would be fine. “Grab that ball! Catch that Snitch! Win the game you son of a…troll!” “Well, at least they are keeping the cheers somewhat clean,” Ginny conceded. “Margaret, I don’t think that you will need to be wearing such a short skirt yourself anytime soon.” “Please don’t call me Margaret Coach!” “Give me a Z! Give me a U! Give me an R, a K, an X, U, M! What does that spell?” As expected, the cheerleading squad fell silent with the realization that none of them had thought to actually utilize a real word. If they continued that practice, there would need to be a few changes, both Ginny and Harry decided. Maybe it was the spectators’ reaction; maybe it was the shouting from the Dragon’s team box; perhaps their own Seeker had simply woken up, but something brought the Snitch to his attention. He altered his flight path in an attempt to cut off Peatree before she could catch up with the golden ball. The modified Snitch was half again the size of a regulation version, and enchanted so that it would travel no faster than any of the Youth League brooms, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it would still be a challenge to capture. Peatree was perhaps four feet behind the ball when she spotted the Dragon moving on her from the right. The elf was quickly closing on the Snitch but knew instinctively that she couldn’t cover that distance in time. Confirming her suspicions, the other Seeker pulled alongside her making the classic mistake of trying to pressure the opponent instead of concentrating on the ball. Despite the modifications to her team’s brooms, Peatree could see that the Blazing Arrow had the superior speed. She decided then to use the other Seeker’s mistake against him. Dropping down perhaps three feet, Peatree wrapped herself tightly to the Dustdiver in order to reduce wind drag to a minimum. A taunting smirk appeared on her face then at the confidence she forced herself to have in the maneuver. Ever so slightly she shifted the broom’s nose, and with a burst of speed that surprised both players, Peatree executed a circuit around the Dragon while maintaining her parallel path. Once…twice…three times the elf did this, and it accomplished exactly what she had known or hoped it would. The opposing Seeker was immediately confused by the action, suspecting an offensive move that never occurred, and naturally having his attention pulled away from the Snitch. All at once, Peatree stopped her orbits. The startled Dragon hesitated for just a second, but it was the second that the Dodger needed. With a final surge forward, she firmly grasped the Snitch, but at that exact moment a Bludger smashed into her broomstick and sent her flying. Peatree landed at least as hard as Sawzall had, knocking her helmet off, and breaking her left wrist. The girl was instantly on her feet however, driven by adrenaline, and holding the Snitch aloft with her good hand. Harry and Ginny were both beside her a heartbeat later. “Oh, this is so wonderful! The Hogsmeade Dodgers have won their first game! I knew they would do it!” Luna told the crowd, this time freely admitting her preferences. “Spenser, I wish that you hadn’t slept through so much of it. It truly was a splendid game. The Dragon coaches are now coming out onto the field, no doubt to offer their sincere congratulations to Harry and Ginny’s team. No…no, Hans Breaker seems to be quite upset. He really is a most unpleasant person.” Luna’s commentary was an understatement. Breaker almost knocked down two of the Dragon players as he stormed out of the players’ box. He quickly outpaced Malfoy who was taking his own time, and it didn’t seem to be just because of his crippled leg. As they expected, the Dutchman had his wand drawn, but Harry and Ginny already had theirs pointed at him in return. Neither had to look to see that Ron’s was on the man as well as he brought his broom down to join them. The Dodgers slowly…carefully approached the gathering, and none of them failed to notice how the Dragons weren’t offering corresponding support for their coaches. “Weasley, declare this a misplay! Potter cheated!” Breaker screamed. “He did something to their brooms to make them faster! The win is ours!” “He never made any improvements Breaker,” Ron coolly told the coach. “The brooms are exactly the way they were when they came to the Dodgers. Harry just said that to bolster his team’s confidence after you showed up with those Blazing Arrows. He did something similar to me during my sixth year here.” Ron had to consciously make the effort to restrain a grin, especially seeing the amazed looks on the children’s faces. “Then…then…because…” Hans Breaker paused here, noting something for the first time that brought a wicked smile of his own. “We take the win because Potter’s team used an elf as their Chaser!” With her helmet gone Peatree’s pointed ears were plainly visible. Ron shot Harry a sharp look at this revelation. “I didn’t know. I wish that you had told me mate. This league was set up for Wizarding children. This might be against the rules.” Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco beat him to it. “No, it is not, although I imagine that it will be by this time tomorrow. I knew that the Potters were utilizing two forest elves. I quietly sent them to his team when sufficient numbers of human children failed to enroll. I actually believed they would be a hindrance. Instead they performed brilliantly. Harry, we concede the win to the Dodgers.” “You can’t be serious!” Breaker screamed. “It’s only a friendly game Hans, and you’re fired,” Draco quietly said as he turned and started off. He didn’t see the Dutchman bring his wand to bear on his former employer. Before Harry could react, Breaker was hit by a strong stun bolt that threw him halfway across the field. Harry and Ginny had both been expecting such an attack, but not who had prevented it. Both turned to face the girl. “We don’t have your restrictions on underage magic Mr. Potter. It was the least that we could do,” Ashelle explained. Without further comment, she retrieved her cousin’s helmet and broom, and then led the team off to their dressing room. “Harry did you notice something strange about Malfoy?” Ginny asked after the team had walked out of earshot. “You mean apart from everything else we just witnessed?” “In all the years that you’ve known him Harry, have you ever heard him use your first name?” It was Ginny and Harry’s turn to host the dinner party the following weekend, and, while it had been planned as a sort of celebration for their win, I suspected that the mood was going to be a bit more dour. The team had surpassed everyone’s expectations, and they more than deserved all of praise that we could hurl at them, but the simple fact was that they were now out of business. Ashelle and Peatree’s departure left them under strength, and, even with all the new interest in the Youth League, Harry only had six days until the Dodgers’ next scheduled game. “Ginny…Mrs. Weasley, I don’t know which smells better, the hams you’re baking or those pumpkin pies cooling down over there,” I told them. Luna and I were both pretty good in the kitchen, but here we were talking Weasley-class cooking. “Thank you, Spenser. I…hold on! You’re wide-awake! Has Luna been feeding you more of the sleeping draught?” Ginny began studying my face, and Harry looked up as well from whatever he was doing at the kitchen table. “Uhm, you see, I ah…” Luna came over and put an arm around me, essentially cutting me off. “Spenser decided to slow down, and take his time with the new book,” she started to explain for me. “I decided to use the time for more…special things.” This time it was my turn to hug Luna as a way of a clarification. I tried to change the subject though. “What’s that you’re working on Harry? Another broom design?” “No, just a few ideas that we’re bantering about for decorating the nursery.” The quick look he gave Ginny told me that he had decided to decelerate his life as well. “Now what about Luna’s future husband?” Oh well. I’d been expecting that. “We uhm…sort of met him. Scamander heard about your biographer’s comments, and he wanted to meet Luna. He was at the Quidditch match.” “Rolf really is a wonderful person,” Luna giggled. Twist the knife girl. “In point of fact, he weighs three hundred pounds, he’s prematurely bald, he’s missing his front teeth, and the rest of them are dark brown. He wears polyester leisure suits and cheap gold chains, and he tried to sell us swampland in southern Florida. I guess that Rolf’s been living there since he was eight.” “I did hear something about his being a naturalist just like Luna,” Harry offered. “I’ve seen pictures of the Florida Everglades, and they’re incredible.” “Actually, while I’m a geographer and a naturalist in the more traditional use of the word, he’s more of uhm a…” “He owns and manages a nudist beach about thirty miles north of Miami,” I finished for her. “You can’t get more natural than that.” Knock, knock, knock. The interruption kept Harry, Ginny and her parents from biting their tongues laughing at our revelation. “That must be Ron and Hermione,” Molly said then. “I wonder why they are bothering to knock or coming to the front door that way.” We all started off toward the entryway, and I held back for just a moment to examine Harry’s sketching. The nursery…the future nursery was structurally the same, but he was adding a window box and an in-place wardrobe beside the closet. It was nice, and I had to wonder if we would soon be hearing a special announcement from them. When I caught up with the group, the door was already open revealing a grinning Sawzall. Behind her was the entire team, including the elves, three more children that I seemed to recognize from somewhere. Behind them all was Draco Malfoy. “Good afternoon everyone. This is a bit of a surprise. Please come in,” Harry told them. I could see that his eyes were on a somewhat sedate Malfoy as he spoke. We moved into the Potters’ large parlor, and Ginny insisted that everyone take a seat before withdrawing, explaining the need to check on supper. Draco avoided looking at any of us, instead giving the house a critical yet no doubt sincere appraisal. A slight nod told us that he must have approved of the workmanship. I wasn’t surprised that Sawzall was the first to speak. “Mr. Potter, we’re sorry to be droppin’ in on all of youse like this, but we thought that we needed to do some discussin’,” the girl began in her thick Brooklyn accent. “We wanted to thank youse for everythin’. We wanted to tell youse about the elfin Quidditch league that Ashelle and Peatree are startin’ on their own.” “That’s fantastic!” Harry almost yelled in an excited voice. “Hey, I’m talkin’ here,” Sawzall continued. “What I mean is…we was wonderin’ why we haven’t had any practicin’ this week. Hey, what you lookin’ at lady?” she directed at Molly Weasley. The woman took no apparent offense at the tone, and, in fact, almost laughed. “She is exactly as you described her,” Molly told no one in particular. “Yeah, well don’t believe half of what the coaches tell youse about me. Anyway, are youse gonna answer the question?” “We don’t have a full team with the elves gone,” Ginny replied as she reentered the parlor. Harry and her attention were on the three new children however. “You do now. I’ve disbanded my team, and they’ve been redistributed among the others. Breaker has been sent to Azkaban for six months for physical attacks on the children and me. You have a team again Harry,” Draco said in an uncharacteristically hushed voice. All of us merely stood there in muted silence. “I know that we aren’t friends. I know that you don’t like me, but I’ve recently seen how much I dislike myself. Watching what Breaker was doing to my team…what I was allowing him to do. I decided that I didn’t like how preoccupied I had become with winning…with having some measure of revenge on you. I’m…sorry.” Harry looked on at him for perhaps another minute before stepping forward and speaking. “That took a lot for you to say. I know that it did. Believe it or no, I was the same way a couple of weeks ago, until someone knocked some sense into me…literally.” I was glad that Harry didn’t look over at me after that. Ginny and her parents were though. “Draco, maybe we can become friends in some way. After all, even my cousin Dudley and I have after a fashion.” Malfoy’s eyes became wide at Harry’s words, and, at first, he couldn’t look at him. Draco really was embarrassed, but I could also see that there was a new strength washing over him that he plainly didn’t realize was there. Harry, he saw, had been holding out his hand. Draco smiled as he took it. “Now onto other matters. Everyone is naturally invited to stay for supper,” Ginny announced. “I’ve Flooed Hermione and caught her before they left. She’s bringing two more baked hams that we can heat up here. Mum, do we have time to put together a few more pies? Dobby has started preparing the moonberries and plums.” “Certainly dear. I do love a good challenge. Now the lot of you, we’ll need more tables, to have those set, and there will be potatoes to peel and mash as well. Off with you now. You too Draco. I understand that you’re a fair hand with cooking yourself. Go on, go children. No…not you Margaret. Arthur and I would like to speak with you for a moment,” Molly asked the girl as the last of her teammates left. “You talkin’ to me? You talkin’ to me? Hey, don’t call me…!” “Sawzall, how would you like to come live with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley?” Harry continued for his mother-in-law. “What?” None of us had ever seen the girl so taken aback. “It’s true. Our children have all moved away, leaving the Burrow far too empty,” Arthur said, amused at the reaction they were eliciting. He grew far more serious before he spoke again. “We have been in contact with your few remaining relatives. It was a bit…surprising how quickly they…all of them in fact agreed to allowing your adoption.” “We’d really like to have you in our family Sawzall,” Harry told her. “There certainly aren’t enough Weasley girls out there,” Ginny added. “Plus, all of you would have first signing rights when she decides to play Beater professionally. What? What?” I asked. “The kid’s good! She’s a natural! It’s too bad that she roots for the wrong baseball team. Yeeouch!” The nine-year-old had a very satisfied expression on her face after she kicked me in the shin and watched as I hopped around the room that way. “Mischief managed pal!” |
| Reviews 2 |
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