To die will be an awfully big adventure. ~J.M. Barrie
I'm sorry but Peter Pan was the first English novel I ever read in English and I love quoting it so expect more of these masterpieces in the future.
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The Quidditch pitch
Hogwarts grounds, Scotland
September 5 1992"Isn't that the Slytherin team? What are they doing here?" Ron said, pointing towards the people dressed in emerald green Quidditch robes. Artemis tore her gaze away from Harry, who had just gracefully avoided a crash with Angelina Johnson.
"I don't believe it!" They heard Oliver Wood roar as he shot towards the ground.
"Come on, let's see what they're up to." Artemis ran onto the pitch, and immediately moved to stand beside Harry.
"Ah," said Marcus Flint, the Slytherin captain. "but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.' "
"You've got a new Seeker?" Asked Wood, distracted. "Where?"
From behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Asked Fred, looking at Draco with dislike.
"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team." All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words. 'Nimbus 2001'
"Very latest model. Only came out last month." Said Flint carelessly, flicking an imaginary speck of dust from the end of his broom. "I believe it outstrips the old 2000 series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps....." he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both holding Cleansweep 5. "Sweeps the board with them."
None of the Gryffindors could think of anything to say for a moment. Draco was still smirking. Artemis rolled her eyes. "Oh look" said Flint. "A field invasion."
Hermione and Ron finally got there. Ron was still chewing on something so Artemis guessed Hermione had waited for him to finish his breakfast. "What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "Why aren't you playing? And what is he doing here?" He was looking at Draco, taking in his Slytherin robes.
"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley." Draco said smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Ron gaped, openmouthed at the seven broomsticks in front of him. "Good aren't they?" Draco said smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms too. You could raffle those Cleansweep 5. I expect a museum would bid for them." The whole Slytherin team howled in laughter.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in." Hermione said sharply. "They got in on pure talent."
The smug look on Draco's face flickered. He actually looked hurt as he stared at Hermione with a weird glint in his eyes. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy, little Mudblood." He spat and Artemis gasped loudly. There was an instant uproar. Flint flew in front of Draco to stop Fred and George jumping on him. Alicia Spinnet shrieked. "How dare you!" Ron plunged his hands into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling "You'll pay for this one, Malfoy!" And pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Draco's face.
A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backwards onto the grass. "Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" Squealed Hermione. Draco didn't say anything, he just glared at Ron. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap. The Slytherin team were paralysed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, hanging onto his broomstick for support. Draco, however, was looking at the ground. Artemis had never seen the look on his face before but it was unmistakenly guilt. The other Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody really touched him.
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