❝𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲?❞
❝𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦.❞
𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 had a few, perhaps a little or more than a palm of qualms in his life. First up was the whole "The Boy-Who-Lived" shenanigans, then there was an ungodly am...
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LI. RON'S ANGER ISSUES
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"Oh, how I wish you'll wake up one day
Run to me, confess your love, at least just let me say"
AS THE CRISP AUTUMN AIR settled over the Hogwarts grounds, the castle hummed with the usual anticipation that came with the first Quidditch match of the new term. The Gryffindor team was out on the pitch, their scarlet robes fluttering as they whizzed around the stadium, practicing their moves. However, in the damp and chilly stands, Marjorie was far from enthusiastic. Her face twisted in distaste as she shifted in her seat, wrapping her cloak tighter around her to keep out the cold. She had been unceremoniously dragged from the warmth of her common room and the comfort of her mountain of homework to sit through a Quidditch practice she had little interest in.
Quidditch had never been her favorite pastime; in fact, she found the sport rather tedious. But somehow, Harry had managed to turn her mild dislike into full-blown annoyance by insisting she spend her free time at the stadium rather than tucked away in the library with Daphne or Hermione. The whole ordeal had happened so quickly, too. One moment, she had been peacefully enjoying breakfast with Hermione, the two of them taking advantage of the boys' absence during their early morning practice. The next, she had been spirited away by the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had all but kidnapped her to sit through their session. But why?
"We need a healer," Harry had explained, standing at the head of the group with that annoyingly confident grin of his.
"I'm not a healer, and you've got the hospital wing—" Marjorie began to argue, but Ginny interrupted, clasping her hands together in a dramatic plea that made Marjorie's eyes widen in horror.
"Please! We need all the practice we can get, and we can't afford to waste time running to the hospital wing every time Ron messes up," Ginny had said, her voice strained as if begging was physically painful for her.
"I get that, but I'm not a healer—"
"But you want to be one!" Dean chimed in from the back, trying to be helpful but only succeeding in deepening Marjorie's irritation.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Who told you that?"
"Well... it was Harry," Dean confessed, instantly throwing their captain under the bus.
Marjorie turned her glare on Harry, who had the audacity to look innocent. "Who told you?"
"Daphne," Harry admitted positively with a grin. "And I thought it'd be great practice for you!"
