❝HOW COME YOU NEVER TRIED FOR SEEKER?❞
❝I ENJOYED AIMING BLUDGERS AT YOU TOO MUCH.❞
The Gryffindor Quidditch Team finally has some real competition. And Harry Potter is totally conflicted.
warning: this book has many mature, NSFW scenes that contrib...
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MAY 21 WAS Indiana Jones' eighteenth birthday, and it was also the day before her first trial; both of which were facts Harry was fully aware of, yet completely unsure what to do with. He wondered if it was worth buying her something, especially when there was a large chance she might not be able to hold onto it for long. And he wasn't sure how to give her said gift, especially when she was keeping her nose down the entire day.
She looked a right mess, that was for sure. When he saw her in Potions that Friday afternoon, he saw that her dark eyes, with the addition of hanging eyelids, were glossed over and entirely vacant, and her skin had paled so greatly that one might think her to be ill. Across from her, Nancy Woods was barely brewing her Potion, and for once, Harry's stomach did not burn with jealousy when he saw Blaise Zabini tenderly holding Indiana's hand.
"Harry," Hermione called his attention back to his own bubbling cauldron rather than staring wistfully over at the Slytherins. "At least try and pay attention..."
"How can you expect me to do that?" He snapped quietly, knowing fully well that she was aware of tomorrow's events. Hermione frowned, sending him a look. Beside her, Ron frowned — Harry had almost forgotten that he had confessed everything to him.
"Just try, mate," He said apprehensively. Harry rolled his green eyes, but with only a single last glance at Indiana, he succumbed to his friends' demands and continued stirring his Essence of Euphoria.
Although he stayed quiet, the cogs of his brain were whirring just as they had that for the entirety of the past twelve hours. Perhaps he couldn't do anything about what would happen to tomorrow at Indiana's first trial, but maybe he could change her fate. He just had to put the pieces together.
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SHE HAD NEVER seen anything more pathetic than what she saw in the mirror. What was the point of putting on the stupid dress shirt and black blazer if she was swapping it in for a stripped prisoners uniform sooner or later? She felt like a phony, really; her sharp black dress pants made her look like she should have been a lawyer, not the defendant.
Indiana and Simon had flooed into the Ministry of Magic through the fireplace in Headmistress McGonagall's office, where they were met with Jack Jones at the entrance of the courtroom. Indiana relished in her freedom of the moment; she tightened her fingers along the length of her wand, appreciating the softness of her wrists and the cleanliness of her appearance.
She had taken it upon herself to wear her mother's ring on her left hand, the emerald and gold shining dimly due to the age of the metal. Simon clutched her hand as they entered at 4:00 PM, the pair shuddering at the sight of the Dementors inside of the courtroom. Indiana had never regretted not learning a Patronus more than she did now. But she didn't fret about it for long — not like it would matter anymore.
