Stuck AIAOY 2

Chapter 8

"Why isn't she here yet?"  George whispered, leaning forward to Harry's ear in the benches of their pre-match rundown with a nearly-frantic Oliver pacing in front of them at their pairing with Hufflepuff.  Rebecca had yet to show up and, while a degree of her perpetual lateness was to be expected at this point, the match was going to begin.

Fred leaned forward for the answer, but Oliver raised his eyebrow at all three of them and sent them back into their proper seats.  This wasn't right, something was off--Fred could practically feel it.

Maybe it was his fault.  Rebecca and Hermione were going to make a stop in the library before they went to the match, something about a theory that needed proving, and Fred and George had passed even though Rebecca had invited them along.

"Listen up." Oliver narrowed his eyes at his one-less-than-usual team.  He knew he let his youngest players get away with more than anyone else, but he'd never admit it.  "We play our game and Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance.  We're stronger, quicker, and smarter."

Rebecca's absent was grating on Harry, too.  This wasn't like her, not lately.  Since a few weeks earlier, when his room was ransacked and the diary was taken, she had pampered him.  Rebecca spooned his food onto his plate at every meal, she never missed a single good night, she straightened his tie and jumper when needed.  

Rebecca had coddled him constantly and neither of them minded.  

Rebecca felt like she was doing something and Harry felt that someone was telling him that it wasn't his fault, that the Petrifications weren't their fault--That they weren't doing anything to deserve the stares and the whispers and the guilt they couldn't quite shake.

"We're going to play as we've practised, we're going to win."  Oliver spoke strongly, knowing victory was imminent.

"Of course, we are."  George spoke with a grin.  "Besides the obvious, they're dead scared Harry'll petrify them if they fly near him."

Fred pursed his lips, finding the joke in poor-taste.  Harry took blame, yes.  But Rebecca did too and it was getting harder and harder to draw her out, to get the Rebecca she was becoming to make the appearance he and George loved.

"That's enough of that."  Oliver scolded, looking over them all as he restarted their procession to the pitch.  "Everyone's going to be scared of what I'll do if she doesn't-Oh, hello Professor!  Ready to see us-"

"I'm afraid this match had been cancelled."  Professor McGonagall spoke seriously, not a trace of humour on her face.

"T-They can't cancel Quidditch."  Oliver breathed in shock, the idea entirely world-shaking to the captain.

"Silence, Wood."  McGonagall who, impossibly so, seemed to grow only more serious.  "You, and Miss Bell and Miss Johnson, will go to Gryffindor Tower.  Now."

Harry felt a seedling of fear bloom in his chest and blossom in his head.  

"You three...you three will follow me as we find Mr Weasley."  McGonagall wouldn't look away from Harry, couldn't.  "There's something the four of you have to see."

Professor McGonagall weathered the storm of questions that followed her as Ron joined their party, all three boys doing nothing but question the manner in which they were being gathered and the potential reasons therein.  At the door to the Hospital Wing, she paused.  "I warn you.  This could be a wee bit of shock."

Fred and George followed Harry and Ron, only footsteps behind the younger-by-one-year boys as they approached the two beds curtained off at the end of the Hospital Wing.  The beds that were pushed together to fit the tangle of Petrified limbs that lay on top of its sheets.