Dancing with Danger

sixteen

later that week...

"I assume you all know what tomorrow is," Flint said, suddenly rising from his seat at the table and looking down at all of our confused faces.

"Saturday?" Mack said hesitantly while still chewing his food.

"Saturday," Flint spat mockingly as he rolled his eyes. "Yes and no, it's our second game of the season."

"Oh, right! Ravenclaw, is it?" said Adrian Pucey, one of our Chasers.

"They're alright, I guess," I mumbled as I looked over my shoulder to the Ravenclaw table that was scattered with various shades of blue.

"Tomorrow morning, up by seven, in the common room by seven fifteen—no later," Flint said while the amber glow of the schedule he'd drawn out in the air with his wand vanished away; the sparks slowly moving in all directions.

"Seven? Really, Flint?" Miles groaned.

————————-

By seven thirteen the next morning, all—or nearly all for that matter— of us were rushing down the spiral stairs to find Flint already scribbling down things on pieces of parchment.

"Who's missing? Malfoy, Rogers, Montague, Bletchley, myself, Pucey," he said confusedly while peering over five of our heads and counting on his fingers.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late!" Mack yelled halfway down the stairs, sloppily throwing the right sleeve of his school robes over his shoulder.

"Someone missed the memo," muttered Malfoy while elbowing my side. An awkward silence, aside from Mack's heavy breathing and the occasional yawn, floated around the room.

"I was supposed to wear my Quidditch uniform, wasn't I?" asked Mack as he twisted and turned his tie in all directions in attempt to make it look a bit better.

"Oh no, we only have a match in a couple of hours, just loosen your tie when you play," said Graham Montague, our third and final Chaser, sarcastically.

"Really?" questioned Mack, sighing with relief.

"Wh- no!" barked Flint, clearly sounding regretful of waking us only as the beginnings of dawn came up on the grounds of Hogwarts. "Just go eat and meet me by the Quidditch pitch in an hour, deal?"

"Don't have to tell me twice!" Mack yelled, his hunger getting the best of him and nearly running to the Great Hall.

"One hour, Wells! No later! And change your clothes!" Flint called after Mack as he left the common room in a series of not-so-graceful leaps, dodging tables and chairs in his path.

The six of us soon caught up to Mack, who was already shoveling food by the pound into his mouth (you'd think he hadn't eaten for days) and glanced around at the other House tables. The Ravenclaw players, draped in robes of dark blue, gave off a mixture of excitement, fatigued yawns, and disgruntled stares towards our table.

The minutes began to fly by and the excitement building in the Great Hall became intense. Cheers and smack talk echoed off the walls and up to the staff table, where Professor Flitwick gave the Ravenclaws a thumbs up and Professor Snape gave us a sly, reassuring nod.

———————-

"Understand?" Flint questioned while pointing to the old chalkboard which stood in front of us, on it was a drawing of the field. Enchanted bits of chalk drawn to be players began to dance around the board, some even knocking each other off their brooms. "Good, we know what we've got to do."

We left the locker rooms to waves of applause and shouts from the crowd. The mid November sun was shining down across the field and there was a slight chill to the wind that had pushed our hair in front of our eyes.

"Flint, Davies, shake hands!" Madam Hooch hollered to the two team captains who had both muttered something incomprehensible to one another. "Mount your brooms! Three...two...one..."

"Off they go! An action packed match is on the rise!" Lee Jordan commentated through Madam Hooch's earsplitting whistle. "Bradley of Ravenclaw with the Quaffle, he soars through the sky an— BLOCKED! Blocked by Slytherin's Keeper Miles Bletchley! Adrian Pucey of Slytherin grabs the Quaffle, passes it to Flint, who passes it back to Pucey...aaaaand...HE SCORES! Slytherin in the lead ten to nothing."

Groans form the Ravenclaw side didn't come close to having an effect on the good spirit rising on the Slytherin side, cheers from Flint ("Now we're getting places!") floated through the air as we awaited the next time we'd score.

———————-

"Montague of Slytherin with the Quaffle, passes it to Pucey, he shoots...he MISSES! Blocked by the Ravenclaw Keeper! Nice save! What's that? Cho Chang swoops down the field...has she seen it? Has she seen the Snitch? We'll find out after this," Lee hollered into the crowd.

"We don't have sponsor breaks!" Professor McGonagall shouted wide eyed at Lee.

"Right it is then, Snitch update! She hasn't got it, just a false alarm, Chambers of Ravenclaw in possession of the Quaffle...bit of a far fetched shot buttttt HE MAKES IT! Ravenclaw now trailing twenty points behind Slytherin, one hundred and ten to ninety." Lee called enthusiastically.

"Montague! Heads up!" I yelled across the air to Graham, who, if I didn't get there fast enough, would be nailed in the back by a Bludger from the opposing team.

"What?" he yelled back.

"Watch—out!" I howled back at him, already knocking one Bludger towards the Ravenclaw Seeker viciously.

"Who, me?! You're the one who should be careful!" he screamed back, his eyes darting rapidly behind me.

Crack!

As soon as I turned my head, the Bludger hit me with such a great force, I think it had broken a bone. "Flint! Time out!" I cried out towards him.

"What's up?" he said, dropping his broom and rushing over to me.

"Is it broken? Will we have to forfeit the match?" I said in agony while holding my wrist out.

"Probably yes, and most likely," Adrian mumbled hesitantly, putting his arm around me.

"We can't just give up the match!" I exclaimed as I tightened the grip on my wrist.

"We also can't play with a broken Beater," Draco said softly as he pushed some hair away from my face.

"I'll use my other hand! See, no biggie!" I nervously laughed—the sharp pain in my wrist said otherwise.

"Times almost up," Madam Hooch called back at us, beckoning towards the Ravenclaw players already in the air.

"I can do it, just let me play," I begged the rest of my team.

"Er—" Flint nervously switched his glance from my wrist, to the Ravenclaw players, and back to my wrist again.