Mara's Magic

iii - thunderstorms suck

"This is our last chance - my last chance - to win the Quidditch Cup," Oliver said, standing in front of us all in the boy's locker room. My face fell slightly at the realization that I wouldn't have my best friend with me next year, but I quickly tried to brighten up again. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it. Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the world - injuries - then the tournament getting called off last year." 

That and a murderous DADA professor as well as a killer snake that tried to kill all the muggleborns in the school, but yes, injuries and a called off season.

I recalled Oliver's furious letter he'd written me when he discovered that quidditch had been cancelled. I'd never heard someone curse out Minnie, but it seemed he had more than a few unfriendly words for her.

Oliver swallowed, as though the memory of the cancelled season still brought tears to his eyes. "But we also know we've got the best - ruddy - team - in - the - school," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, his signature quidditch-crazed look back in his eyes. "We've got three superb Chasers." 

He pointed at me, Angelina, and Alicia. We grinned and high-fived one another, me sending a wink my boyfriend's direction. He grinned and swung his arm in the direction of the twins.

 "We've got two unbeatable Beaters." 

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," Fred and George said in unison, pretending to hide a blush.

"And we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" He roared with pride, his finger in Harry's direction. Harry grinned with satisfaction, pounding his fist in his hand as Oliver had done earlier. "And me," he added as an afterthought. 

"We think you're very good too, Oliver," George told him. 

"Spanking good Keeper," Fred agreed. 

"The best since Haman McFarlan," I said, beaming. I was referring to a famous Gryffindor Keeper gone professional for the English team in the 50s; he was Oliver's idol when he was a kid. Oliver paused for a moment with a small smile at our compliments before resuming his pacing.

"The point is," he continued, "the Quidditch Cup should have had ourname on it these last two years. Ever since Harry joined the team, I've thought the thing was inthe bag. But we haven't got it, and this year's the last chance we'll get to finally see our name onthe thing..." 

He sounded so upset and dejected as he spoke; we all glanced at each other with sympathy.

"Oliver, this year's our year," Fred said. 

"We'll do it, Oliver!" Angelina agreed. 

"Definitely," said Harry. 

"No question," I smiled. He took a deep breath and nodded. 

"Well, we start with today's match. You've all seen the weather," he looked to the door as if he was going to be able to see the heavy thunderstorm, but even if he couldn't, we could all hear it. 

It sounded as if someone was repeatedly banging against two snare drums, the noises piling aggressively on top of one another in addition to the sound of the rain pelting the ground and stands. In the short amount of time it took me and the girls to cross the aisle between the girls' and boys' locker rooms, we had effectively soaked our hair and clothes. But, quidditch doesn't cancel for things as silly as rainstorms. 

"We've got to be on our O game today, lads," Oliver told us. He looked at us Chasers. "And lasses," he added. "No slacking today, alright? None. You've got to be completely focused. The weather'll screw you over if you let it, so don't. We've got to win."