The Taming of The Viper

Chapter 1: Fingers Crossed For Gryffindor

The cracks in the ceiling were beginning to look like constellations and Amicia wondered how long she'd been laying in bed, alone in the dormitory. Behind the closed door, giggles and hollers emanated from the common room. How can they still be celebrating? It's well after hours, Amicia thought bitterly. Where's Peeves when you need him?

The night had cause for celebration, at least for the Slytherin. It had been the first Quidditch match of the year and they had won it, much to everyone's surprise. Just hours ago, Amicia watched the match from the stands, the wind whipping through her hair while she clutched Hermione's hand, both to soothe her nerves and to regain some warmth. They screamed their throats raw, cheering on their team and biting their nails as Harry flew past them in a blur of red and gold, arm stretched out, fingertips so close to the Snitch that he must've felt the brush of its wings. The Gryffindors went silent, holding a collective breath in the stands, awaiting what was a sure win for them. That is, until Vincent Crabbe cut in between Harry and the Snitch, nearly knocking Harry off of his broom in the process. The crowd jeered.

" Foul! " Amicia heard Seamus Finnigan's unmistakable Irish brogue behind her. The wooden planks she stood on bent and creaked as he and the other Gryffindors stomped their feet, "That's a bloody foul!"

"The ref must be blind," said Dean Thomas, hastily wiping down the lenses of his Omnioculars with his sleeve to get a better view of what was happening on the pitch. The referee had turned his back to them to ignore the hostile protests coming from the Gryffindor stands and flew away before anyone worked up the nerve to hex his broomstick.

"Bet you ten Galleons that the only thing he's blinded by is Malfoy's money," Seamus said bitterly.

Amicia felt Hermione's fingers tighten around hers as they watched Harry attempt to get past Crabbe, weaving left and right around the bulky obstacle, only to be blocked by Goyle wherever he turned. Seeing Harry's predicament, Ron shouted a nasty insult at Crabbe from across the pitch that earned a horrified gasp or two from the staff members and further encouragement from Fred and George.

"What is he thinking?" Hermione huffed, "The last thing we need is for McGonagall to take house points away."

"Relax, 'Mione, he's only trying to help Harry," Amicia sounded hopeful as she pointed towards the Seeker, "Look!"

The colorful language Ron used made Crabbe whip around to shout back at the Keeper, giving Harry the opportunity to dart in between the Slytherin Beaters and resume pursuit of the Snitch. He was like a hummingbird, cutting through the air so fast it was nearly impossible to keep your eyes locked on him, but even with his speed, Harry was still too late. While Crabbe and Goyle were blocking him, Draco Malfoy had enough time to race ahead and was now closing in on the Snitch. Harry had made a futile attempt to catch up but it was over. Malfoy thrust an arm into the air, parading the Snitch over his house's stands as the crowd erupted with cheers.

Lee Jordan was unusually quiet, but after a prod from McGonagall, he unenthusiastically announced, "Draco Malfoy catches the Snitch, earning an extra hundred and fifty points for Slytherin, winning the match 170-90."

The Gryffindor's uproar echoed through the stands as they cursed the referee, but were drowned out by the cheering of Slytherins. Waves of green and grey scarves flew up into the air as the team flew victory laps overhead while everyone else began to somberly walk back to the castle, all left questioning the integrity of Slytherin's victory.

As she laid in bed, Amicia tried to ignore the noise coming from the common room by closing her eyes and wishing she were elsewhere. She imagined her three friends in the Gryffindor commons, trying to visualize what they were doing at this very moment. Probably patting Harry on the back for a game well-played or teasing Ron for all the shots he failed to block. A smile formed on her lips when she pictured Hermione already advising them on a new play for the next match, better than any Oliver Wood ever came up with. Amicia longed to be in that room more than anything right now. To be clad in red and gold just as her best friends were. She hadn't even had the chance to praise Harry and Ron after the match, as it ran late and everyone was ushered back to their dorms.