Torn Between Three Me's

26 - Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff

'Nyoooom.' Fred flew straight downward on his broom toward George who did a loop-de-loop once Fred passed him, pretending to fall off his broom.

'Nyoooom.' They switched and George dove at Fred who flipped in the same way when George got close.

'Nyoooom.'

'Will you stop messing around?' Oliver shouted. 'That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match tomorrow when we face Hufflepuff.'

'The best match of the season,' I added. 'If we don't win, I will blame you two.' I raised my eyebrows half playfully, half sternly at the twins as they sent me a mocking look back.

'We maybe don't need to be that aggressive, but I like the drive, Addy,' Oliver said, going back to his pep talk. 'Now, Snape will be refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!'

George fell off his broom for real with that news. 'Snape?' He scoffed, spitting out a chuck of mud from the rainy weather. 'When has he ever refereed a match? He's not going to be fair if there's the chance we overtake Slytherin.'

Everyone else landed on the wet, muddy, pitch around George with similar complaints.

'Calm down, everyone!' Oliver shouted. 'It's not my doing. But we've got to make sure we play a clean game so he has no reason to pick on us, that's all.'

Practice ended and the twins and I looked at each other with pointed expressions. We headed for the locker rooms together. 'Well, we know one thing's for sure,' Fred said.

'What?' I asked.

Fred smirked, looking down at me. 'Snape will look the other way if you cause a penalty.'

'Oh, piss off,' I grumbled, shoving him as he stumbled slightly in the muddy grass, laughing as he caught his footing. 'I'm just good at potions and he sees that.'

'Sure there's nothing else?' George winked, a smirk growing on his face.

'There's not!' I gawked. 'Do you want me to make the farting potion or not?'

'Yes,' they sighed.

'Then shush and appreciate me,' I said, concealing a smile. We pushed the flap open to the tent and stepped through, heading for the lockers. 'Either way, Snape or Hooch as referee tomorrow, we better beat Merlin's balls off Hufflepuff tomorrow! Understand? Or I'll never hear the end of it.'

'Oh, of course,' George nodded, turning around and taking his team jersey off. I grabbed my clothes and went over to the stall in the corner.

'We want to win as much as anyone,' Fred added.

'Especially if it'll calm Oliver down.'

'Those showers he takes after matches are concerning.'

'They are, yes. But not as concerning as what I'll do if we let Cedric win,' I said. It was quiet for a few seconds on the other side of the stall. 'We're gonna beat him, right?'

'Well, we can't say for sure,' Fred said.

'But we promise not to goof off during the match,' George assured.

'Alright. Reasonable,' I nodded, opening the stall door in my freshly dry uniform. I threw the wet quidditch uniform in my locker and scourgified them dry. Then we ran back up to the castle for dinner.

We found seats next to Harry, Hermione, and Ron and started piling food on our plates. As I was piling the last chicken wing onto my tower of food, I looked over at Harry's face, staring down at his untouched plate of food. He was pale, with his mouth gaping, and looked like he'd just seen Sir Nicholas pull his head off for the first time.