Discovery

53.

The D.A. met whenever possible, and everyone was making incredible progress. Everyone was getting along nicely, and Hermione had devised a plan to help communicate the meeting times. She gave each of the members of the D.A. a fake Galleon.

"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of our fourth meeting."On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."

But as the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, the D.A. meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. This also meant I was seeing less and less of Fred.

"I promise we'll have time alone once the match has passed," he told me every evening before Quidditch practice. "Just you wait and see."

***

The morning of the match arrived soon enough. After breakfast, I headed up to the stands with Hermione and Ginny.

I was only slightly disappointed that I hadn't been able to see Fred.

Madam Hooch ordered the captains to shake hands, and then the game began. Lee's commentary was no different than other years.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me —"

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe— dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.

"That's awful!" Hermione cried.

"What idiots," I felt the anger inside me rising.

"Er— your hair—" Hermione said warily.

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered, acknowledging the fact that my hair was scorching red.

Lee continued, clearly trying to drown out the sound of the singing.

"Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . ."

Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring . . .

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron . . ."

The Slytherins sang even louder:

WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN . . .