The Chaser [sequel to The Mudblood]

Chapter 1: Year 1

"Can I smack Mum over the head with this broomstick?"

My father's brown eyes widened in horror as he glanced ahead to where my mother strutted through Diagon Alley, waving her broom up and down like she was leading a marching band. Really, she was just leading me and Dad toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, our last stop before we could finally return home.

"No, don't do anything to make her upset. She's actually in a calm mood today," he whispered, jumping in fright a second later when the end of his broom accidentally grazed the cobblestones. By my mother, we'd been instructed to carry our fancy Firebolt Deluxes through the streets as well as wear bright green Quidditch jerseys with our surname on the back.

"We have to remind everyone that we're more famous Quidditch celebrities than Uncle Adrian!" she'd proclaimed when I'd questioned her about it at home.

Then I'd mumbled, "I would rather go to the underworld with Melody," and my mum gasped before plunging into a rant about how I hadn't yet accomplished enough in Quidditch to die.

Now, since I'd complied with her wishes, she'd resumed her cheery demeanor, waving at everyone like she was the victor of a battle. Soon enough, two boys ran up to her and asked for an autograph, and she happily obliged. Dad and I slowed our pace as much as possible, a silent agreement between us to not get entrenched in another awkward conversation with strangers. We'd already endured seven during this dreadful outing.

"Alvie!" my mother sang, provoking a quiet sigh from me. With one finger, she beckoned for me to join her and the two boys, and I knew if I didn't obey she would cause a scene. Reluctantly, I trudged toward them. "This is my daughter, future Quidditch star!" Mum enthused as she handed the autographs to the boys and wrapped one arm around my shoulders. I grimaced as the boys, who seemed about my age, exchanged mocking smiles.

"We bet," they chorused with sarcasm my mother didn't detect. She waved to them as they scurried away, probably not hearing one say, "We finally got an autograph from the most psychotic Quidditch player ever! This'll be worth a fortune when she murders her brother..."

"That's one thousand six hundred fifty-seven autographs!" Mum released my shoulder and then shouted toward the sky, "How many have you given, Adrian?"

A passerby glanced up, probably expecting my uncle to be flying by on a broom, but nope, there was no one. This was just something my mum did to make me want to burrow in the ground and never leave hibernation.

For once, she noticed the discomfort on my face, her blonde eyebrows furrowing. "Are you all right?"

"I would just rather be home—" I started to say, but she cut me off with a shriek.

"They put a Sparkdart in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies already! I thought it wasn't being sold until next week!"

Walking up behind us, Dad cleared his throat. "We, uh, don't have time..."

I expected Mum to ream him out for suggesting time was more important than Quidditch, but then she looked at the ice cream parlor across the street and held her broom up in the air. "Ah, yes, to our destination!"

As she marched toward the parlor, my eyes slid toward my father in skepticism. "I'm pretty sure you didn't put her under the Imperius Curse, so what don't we have time for?"

Dad tugged at the collar of his jersey. "We're, um...meeting some people for ice cream."

"That's why Mum agreed to let us eat sugar?" I asked flatly. "Why didn't you tell me about this? You know I hate surprises."

"I know you hate socializing more," he reasoned with a guilty grimace. "C'mon, it won't take long, and we'll get ice cream."

He was basically pleading with me at this point, which was understandable since Mum never let us eat sweets at home. With a sigh of defeat, I trudged into the ice cream parlor.