❝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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IF THERE WAS one thing that Indiana Jones wasn't, it was a damsel in distress. A damsel was some flimsy, dependent broad who probably sat around waiting for others to do things for them, waiting for some random prince who probably wore too much gel in his hair to save her from the tower that — if Indiana was being honest — actually seemed like a pretty sick place to live (if you can find a way out, of course). And even if she was a damsel in a tower, she reckoned she'd be able to find a way out before Mr. Prince even found the tower in the first place.
When Potter stormed into that courtroom, wearing that jet black suit, too-tight dress shirt and ferociously determined expression, Indiana decided that she didn't mind being a damsel for a little while. Her tower was a black, unbreakable iron cage and rather than having miles of magical hair, she had rusted manacles about her wrists and a dirty, striped prison uniform. So if Harry Potter had to be her prince for an hour, she figured that would really be alright.
When Indiana returned to Hogwarts to complete her seventh year, there were only three weeks until graduation, thus ending her career as both student and Slytherin Quidditch Captain. Whilst she was gone, it had been announced that Slytherin had won the Quidditch Cup, which for once, she did not care much. She'd be the talk of the school once she stepped foot into the castle, and not in the good way.
Rita Skeeter had been in the courtroom, therefore the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly had written at least a piece or two on her trials. No doubt they'd blab on about that false-memory Harry had created in his successful attempt to help her. Bloody reporters.
She had arrived early in the morning on Friday (she had stayed home for a few days just to gather herself together and get rid of the constant chill she had gotten from being housed with the dementors), and she immediately realized that the rest of the students were enjoying breakfast in the Great Hall.
The corridors were empty, aside from the occasional cat or rat, and even though her tie was loosened and her skirt was rolled and she knew she looked good, she did not want anyone to see her. No amount of concealer could have covered up the bags under her tired eyes, and even with her sleeves flat against her skin, she could not help but wonder if everyone would be looking for her Dark Mark, now that word was out. Or, perhaps, they were searching for those fun tattoos she had been forced to receive. She wasn't sure which she hated more.
At the sound of footsteps behind her, she clutched her wand and spun around, expecting to see someone ready to throw insults at her, but at the sight of the students, she sighed in relief.
"Indiana, hi!" said Hermione in a chipper voice, her pink lips curving upwards into a bright beam. Indiana's shoulders deflated in relief, and she smiled at her.
