Darwinism | hp

007: Quidditch

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As winter began to take it's hold, Marilyn woke up earlier to watch the sun rise over the snow-capped-mountains surrounding the castle, as the view from her bedroom window was honestly perfect, though she had always been frightened of being above the first floor of a building, so she couldn't look down. 

Since saving Hermione from the mountain troll at Christmas, Marilyn, Harry, Ron and Hermione spent almost every day together. They walked to classes, and breakfasts, and would often sit together at both. Marilyn had never had friends before, but she was fairly sure that was what they were. She hoped so, anyway. 

Classes went by mostly the same - she knew how to avoid Riddle and Nott, so only Snape was the one picking on her, though he certainly seemed to have a worse problem with Harry than anyone else. 

Quidditch season had also begun, and that meant their first match was coming up - Slytherin vs Gryffindor. She was beyond glad for it, despite her nerves. She knew how to fly, and she knew Quidditch, thanks to studying it harder than she'd studied anything in her life. Though she was afraid she might die, she didn't mind. Being the first student to die in God knows how long would certainly get people talking, and then she could annoy the Slytherins from the grave.

No one was supposed to know that she was a Seeker, but somehow the news got out, and everyone seemed to know, making comments on how they believed she'd die or wishing her luck.

"Hey, good job getting on the Quidditch team." Riddle's voice said.

She was sitting on a wall outside the school, playing fetch with Ernie when he approached her. She hated that he and Nott waited until she was alone to pick on her mostly, only making small comments around the others, but this time it was just him.

"Yeah, I'm good at flying a broom." She took the ball from Ernie, who was so excited to catch it that he tripped before she even pulled her arm back. She was fairly sure that he was pulling one of his usual jokes that she didn't understand, though Nott was nowhere to be seen, so she wouldn't know. It was probably some story to tell him later.

"Youngest in a century, right? Maybe your blood parents are famed players or something."

"Yours must be famed assholes."

"Both dead, but thanks."

She didn't feel bad. She probably had dead parents, too.

As Saturday got closer, not only was Quidditch on the forefront of her mind, but Harry had come up with a rather crazy idea that Snape had let out the troll on Halloween night to distract everyone while he tried to get past the three-headed-dog and get whatever Hagrid took from Gringotts, due to seeing his leg was mangled and he mentioned three heads.

"I don't want to talk about Snape." Marilyn had said, as she poked her scrambled eggs the morning of the match. "Do you think-"

But the trio were not in an argument, and didn't hear her.

An hour later, she was in the stadium change rooms, changing into her scarlet robes, and her nerves were beyond anything they'd been before, now feeling similar to when she was sorted - week knees, pale face that the twins made a joke about, and stomach feeling like she'd puke up the breakfast she hadn't actually eaten. 

Once they were all dressed, Olivier Wood clapped his hands.

"Alright, men."

"And women." Angelina Johnson, one of the three chasers, added.

"And women. This is it."

"The big one." Fred said.

"The one we've all be waiting for." George continued.