The Heart Is Not Black or White

Chapter 18

My hands were shaking... and it was not just from the chilly November air. I was excited to get back on the Quidditch Pitch, and yearning to once more get on a broom. When I was hitting Bludgers, no matter how pathetic it sounded, I felt powerful.

Nerves were also taking over. I was overthinking: First of all, I would be playing against Fred and George, two of the best Beaters in Hogwarts history (according to them). Second, there was a lot of pressure on me. It was my first match at Hogwarts ever. I was a first-year girl beater, which was apparently unheard of. Not to mention Marcus Flint expected me to knock every Gryffindor off their broom.

Something else was weighing heavily on my mind, too. It was what Tracey had told me about the Manus Force. Surely I couldn't be special... right? I was just a regular witch.

"Stop thinking about it," I kept telling myself. I needed to focus on winning this match. If I proved worthy, hopefully I would be considered for a permanent spot on the team next year. And I wanted that chance so badly.

News that I was going to be playing in the match on Saturday spread like wildfire. The whole school was buzzing about it, especially Fred and George. They were constantly telling people that I was their "creation".

The morning before the match, I could hear Fred talking to a group of their third-year friends during breakfast in the Great Hall. He was saying, "We've been training her ever since she could get on a broom. George and I always knew she'd be playing in her first year. Of course the only reason she isn't a permanent player is because Marcus Flint is right mental. We won't expect her to be as good as us, but very close..."

While Fred and George were oozing with pride, Malfoy was livid. He had expected himself to be the first in our year to make the Quidditch team, and even went for Seeker at tryouts. He was talented, I would give him that, but the current Seeker was more suited for the position. Ever since he found out I was playing today he had been sulking.

There was also gossip that Harry Potter would be playing Seeker for Gryffindor. If he was, I wished him all the best, but I hoped he knew I would be calling for blood.

As the team and I waited in the prep room before the match, Marcus gave us a so-called "pep talk".

"Alright," he started. "You know what you have to do. I don't care how you do it, just do it. Beaters, I want you to beat the living daylights out of Potter. And L'amare, you better prove yourself. If you let Potter get that Snitch... let's just say this will be your last ever Quidditch match at Hogwarts. Now get out there and beat Gryffindor!"

Surprisingly, his bluntness made me want to do better. I was more scared, but more determined.

The Slytherin team, in our green robes, walked onto the field. Everyone was cheering and shouting. The Slytherins were cheering loudest of all, and the Gryffindors were too busy encouraging Harry to boo us.

All of the players took their spots on the pitch. My hands were shaking even more now and my knuckles were deathly white. They were gripping the handle of the broom the school had provided me, and I thought it would split in half.

Madam Hooch walked to the middle of the Quidditch pitch and said, "Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you." She gave a pointed look at Flint. "Mount your brooms please."

We all mounted our brooms. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fred. He was swinging his bat, indicating that he was going to whack me in the head. I shook my it, knowing that he would never do that. Not to me.

Suddenly I heard the screech of a whistle and leapt from the ground, instantly springing into action. I caught sight of a Bludger and made a beeline for it.