Carina Gray is a sharp-witted, fiercely loyal Slytherin with a knack for mischief and a heart of gold she tries hard to keep hidden. Known for her bold sense of humor and unwavering courage, she isn't afraid to stand up for her friends, even if it m...
The early morning sky was still a pale shade of lavender when Carina Gray dragged herself across the frosted grounds toward the Quidditch pitch. The cool air stung her face, and each breath clouded in front of her. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders, muttering under her breath as she trudged along.
It was far too early.
The Slytherin team was already gathered, the faint sound of broomsticks shifting in hands and the scuffle of feet as players whispered complaints. Marcus Flint stood at the center of the pitch, arms crossed, his breath visible in the morning chill as he watched the stragglers make their way in.
Carina finally arrived at the pitch, broomstick in hand, blinking groggily. She wasn't sure how she was still standing. Her legs felt like lead, her hair an untamed disaster, and the dark bags under her eyes made her look like she hadn't slept in a week. She swore the sun wasn't even awake yet.
Marcus noticed her approach and gave a sharp nod. "Gray, good of you to join us in this lifetime."
She gave a weak wave and flopped against her broom as if it could hold her up. "Marcus, it's inhumane to wake people up this early." Her voice was muffled against the handle.
From the other side of the pitch, Adrian Pucey laughed as he walked over and tousled her already messy hair.
Carina groaned loudly and shot him a half-hearted glare. "Merlin's beard, my hair! Do you have any idea how much effort I put into this?" she mumbled. "It's tragic. I can't be fabulous if I don't get my beauty sleep."
"You sound like you belong in the mirror at Gladrags," Adrian teased, grinning.
"Keep talking, Pucey. Maybe you'll be my next makeover project," Carina muttered as she ran her fingers lazily through her hair, not really trying to fix it. She was too tired to care.
Marcus cleared his throat loudly. "Enough about hair! Everyone on your brooms! We've got a match coming up, and if we don't destroy Ravenclaw, I'll make this practice seem like a lie-in."
Carina groaned again but mounted her broom. The familiar rush of cold air as her feet left the ground helped wake her up a little, though the bags under her eyes still felt like they weighed a ton. The team rose into the air around her, forming loose lines as Marcus barked instructions.
"Pass drill!" Marcus called out. "Puig, Pucey—take point! Gray, you're center!"
Carina zipped forward, catching the Quaffle as it sailed toward her. She pivoted sharply, shooting past Adrian, who gave her a mock salute. With a quick burst of speed, she dodged another teammate and shot the Quaffle toward the opposite hoop.
