Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
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November 22nd, 1978
The wind tasted bitter today — November's chill sinking past Avery's scarf and deep into her skin. The sky was a restless gray, heavy with the threat of rain, and the kind of sharpness that made brooms feel faster, turn tighter, and every bludger strike twice as cruel.
She mounted her broom with a practiced motion, the familiar wood warm against her gloved hands. Around her, the Ravenclaw team buzzed with quiet determination, blue and bronze flashing against the steel backdrop of the sky. Across the pitch, the Slytherin team loomed like a shadow — polished, calculated, arrogant.
And there was Regulus. Perched on his broom like a prince on a throne, silent and carved in marble. The wind tugged at his robes, black and green snapping sharply. Avery tore her eyes away before he could glance over. She hadn't spoken to him in nearly two months, since after the reveal of his identity. She hasn't spoken about it to anybody else either — not even Dorcas and Pandora.
And she hated the way she missed him and her heart stuttered like it hadn't learned how to stop loving him. That some part of her still reached for him in dreams. Still remembered the way his voice dipped when he said her name. The way he used to look at her like she was something rare. Like he wasn't scared.
But now she was scared and confused. Of what it meant to love someone who wore the Dark Mark on his arm. How could someone so gentle in private, so careful with her heart, stand behind a cause soaked in cruelty?
You're smarter than this, her mind scolded.
He made his choice. And it wasn't you.
But then again, maybe it was never that simple.
The whistle blew. Avery pushed off the ground with a rush of wind and adrenaline, hurtling into the sky with the rest of her team. The match began fast.
"And we're off! It's Ravenclaw versus Slytherin in what promises to be a nail-biting match! Ravenclaw's hoping to reclaim glory after that narrow loss to Gryffindor last month — and Slytherin, as usual, looks like they've brought the entire House of Gaunt's bad attitude with them!" Cassie Bell's voice crackles into life below the stands.
The game launched with a crack of brooms and cheering. The Quaffle soared into the air and was immediately snatched by Ravi Patil, Ravenclaw's new Chaser after last year's rotation. Bludgers shrieked past heads. Players cut viciously through the air, chasing and dodging with practiced chaos. Ravenclaw scored first, then Slytherin tied, and the rhythm of the game built into something relentless.
One of Slytherin beaters — Jaxon Travers — was a walking menace. The bat in his hand might as well have been a wand, with how surgically he swung. He'd already knocked a shoulder out of alignment in the first five minutes and sent two of Ravenclaw's Chasers spiraling.
But the Ravenclaws weren't backing down either. The air was tight with hexed motion, bludgers whipping like hornets, players slicing through clouds with razor turns. The match ticked into its twentieth minute with a score of 50–40 to Slytherin.
