The Girl Who Spoke---Fred Weasley x Reader

Games

In the heart of the magical world, standing as the captain of the revered Gryffindor Quidditch team, I held my head high, exuding a confidence that was contagious among my teammates. To my left, the gifted Chasers, Katie Bell, with her unparalleled agility and accuracy, and Ginny Weasley, whose fiery spirit ignited a fierce determination within us all. It was an honor to lead such a formidable trio, our unity and skill pivotal in the fierce competition that lay ahead.

The atmosphere was electric, filled with an anticipation that was almost tangible. The crowd held its collective breath as Harry Potter, our Seeker extraordinaire, readied himself. Harry, the boy who lived, was a sight to behold. His legendary status only amplified by his skill on the broomstick, his instinctual understanding of the game, and his uncanny knack for identifying the elusive Golden Snitch amidst the chaos.

At the goalposts, Ron Weasley, our steadfast Keeper, prepared himself for the onslaught of Quaffles. His usual jocularity replaced with a focused calm, his gaze steady and sure, unfazed by the taunting jeers of the Slytherins. Ron's unwavering determination and resilience had always been his strengths, and they shone all the brighter under the pressure of the impending match.

Finally, the Beaters, Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes, were a force to be reckoned with. Their expert maneuvering of the Bludgers, a testament to their meticulous training and inherent talent, was a sight that struck fear in the hearts of our adversaries. Their critical role in the team was undeniable, their actions often turning the tide in our favor.

Our team, in all its glory, was a testament to trust, friendship, and the power of unity. We stood ready, our hearts beating in rhythm with the growing excitement, poised to take on any challenge that came our way. The roar of the crowd, the chill of the wind, the thrill of the game - it was more than just a match; it was a testament to our spirit, our determination, and our unwavering Gryffindor pride.

On the opposing side of the pitch, Slytherin's captain, Mattheo Riddle, radiated an aura of cunning confidence, a trademark of the house he represented. Flanking him, the proficient Chasers, Lorenzo Berkshire and Blaise Zabini, each carried an air of cool determination, their eyes steely and focused. Complementing them were the hulking duo of Crabbe and Goyle, formidable Beaters who wielded their bats with a fearsome gusto that was as intimidating as their towering statures. The Seeker was a petite figure, his size belied by his swift agility, while the Keeper, a tall and imposing figure, guarded the hoops with unwavering vigilance.

The match kicked off with a surge of adrenaline, unfolding into an enthralling spectacle that was equal parts magic and mettle. Both teams, Gryffindor and Slytherin, were relentless, exhibiting a blend of impressive skill and tenacity that had spectators on the edge of their seats.

"Riddle takes the Quaffle," Luna's voice echoed softly through the vast expanse of the Quidditch field, her tone as ethereal as ever, contrasting starkly with the fervor of the game.

As the Slytherin captain took possession of the Quaffle, I pivoted sharply on my broom, cutting through the air with precision as I raced towards him. Determination fueled my every move as I maneuvered closer, my eyes locked on the red leather ball. With a swift, calculated motion, I slammed my shoulder into Riddle's, the impact jarring him enough to loosen his grip on the Quaffle.

Ginny, ever the opportunist, dove sharply from her position, her broom cutting through the air like a falcon in pursuit. Slytherin's Lorenzo Berkshire, alias Enzo, was hot on her heels, his intent clear. But Ginny was a force unto herself. She snatched the falling Quaffle from the air, pulling up just in time to avoid a collision with the ground.

With the Quaffle in Gryffindor's possession, we shifted the dynamics of the game. Ginny ascended rapidly, her red hair a fiery streak against the blue sky. Spotting Katie, she tossed the Quaffle across the field. We weaved and ducked, evading the Slytherin Chasers with a choreographed elegance that spoke volumes of our camaraderie and practice.