Money's not a problem (Rosekiller Fic)

⟦8⟧

~Evan~

As Regulus and I left the hospital wing, the cool air of the corridor hit me, a stark contrast to the stuffy room where Barty was stuck. I hated leaving him behind like that, especially when I knew he wanted to be out there with us. But Pomfrey was right—he needed rest. Still, I couldn't shake the nagging worry in the back of my mind.

"You think he'll be alright?" I asked, glancing sideways at Regulus as we made our way toward the Quidditch pitch. The halls were emptier than usual, everyone either heading to the stands or gearing up for the match.

Regulus stayed quiet for a moment, his jaw clenched. He looked a bit better than when we first found him after the conversation with Sirius, but I could tell he was still carrying the weight of it. "He'll be fine," Regulus finally said, though his voice lacked its usual certainty. "Barty's tough. He'll bounce back."

I nodded, though my mind was still on our friend lying in that hospital bed. The truth was, Barty wasn't just tough—he was stubborn, and I knew he hated missing anything, especially something as important as Quidditch. But for now, we had to focus on the match.

As we got closer to the pitch, the atmosphere shifted. The air was charged with that familiar pre-game energy—students were buzzing with excitement, their cheers already echoing from the stands. Gryffindor was probably already boasting about how they'd crush Slytherin today, but we weren't going to make it easy for them.

Regulus turned to me as we neared the changing rooms. "You ready?" His eyes had that same focused determination that made him such a good captain. He wasn't just thinking about winning; he was thinking about making sure we won, to prove to Sirius he wasn't a little kid.

I grinned, shaking off the tension from earlier. "Always."

Inside the changing room, the team was already suiting up, the air thick with a mix of nerves and adrenaline. Lucius was stretching, looking as smug as ever, and Dorcas was lacing up her boots, focused and serious. Emma was nowhere to be seen yet, but that was typical. She usually showed up at the last minute, just to keep everyone on edge.

As I pulled on my gear, Regulus stood in front of the group, his voice calm but firm. "Alright, listen up. We're down our usual beater, thankfully, Lucius stepped in, but that doesn't change anything. We play our game, stick to our strategy, and don't let Gryffindor push us around." He paused, glancing at me. "Evan, you're going to have to step up today."

I met his eyes, nodding. I knew what he meant. With Barty out, I'd have to pick up some of the slack, keep the Bludgers off our chasers, and make sure Gryffindor didn't get any easy goals. It wasn't going to be easy, but I wasn't going to let Reg or Barty down.

Lucius snorted from across the room. "As if Gryffindor's even a challenge."

"Don't get cocky, Malfoy," I shot back, tightening my gloves. "It'd your first game since your third year."

Dorcas stifled a laugh, and even Regulus cracked a small smile.

"Let's just get out there and show them what we're made of," Reg said, grabbing his broom.

The rest of the team echoed the sentiment, grabbing their gear and heading toward the pitch. I lingered for a second, glancing at the empty space where Barty's broom usually was.

"For Barty," I muttered under my breath, gripping my own broom tightly as I followed the others out into the roaring stadium.

The sky was overcast, and a light breeze swept across the pitch as we took our positions. The Gryffindor team was already on the other side, led by James Potter, his usual smug grin plastered across his face. He shot a glance our way, and I could see the challenge in his eyes. He knew we were down a player, and he thought he had the upper hand.