Ceasefire (A Harry Potter Fan-fiction)

Fourth

"Best of luck, cousin! Beat those Slytherins for me. And for the House," I hugged James. He was in his Quidditch robes which were in Gryffindor's house colors, red and gold. 

The match is due to start after breakfast. We're at the Gryffindor common room and everyone's just excited for the game. Even too excited to proceed to the Great Hall and fill their stomachs.

It would be the last for this season, the championship. Slytherin's defending their title for they won last year. As a Gryffindor, it's hard for me to admit that they actually deserved that win. They're very good. But those snakes won't hear that from me. Or from anyone in House.

The Gryffindors are gathered around our Quidditch team. James is the Seeker and Captain. Thomas McLaggen was the Keeper. The three Chasers comprised of two seventh years, Wood and Collins. Our Beaters are a fifth year I only recognize by face and of course, Lily Luna Potter. That girl is bad-ass.

"Today is the last match for the season. All the hardwork we've exerted in the past games and even our practice sessions come to this moment. We've had our bones broken, our skin grazed, and our bodies injured," James said in determination, "Today, we fight. Today, we shall claim the Quidditch cup. Today, Gryffindor will prevail!"

Everyone cheered and clapped loudly. Anyone could feel the house spirit. Plus, James was a great captain. His team loved him. All of Gryffindor loves him. He's adored by the professors when he wasn't wreaking havoc with Lily.

The Wizarding World puts our families, the Potters and Weasleys, on a high pedestal. Our parents were the heroes of the war. The ones who brought light to the Dark Days. The ones who put an end to Voldemort's and the Death Eaters' regime. They fought boldly. The history books made sure everyone would be aware of their feat.

But we don't let that get into our heads. It's pretty difficult not to, especially when everywhere we go where there are magical folk, our autographs are in high demand. 

I embedded it on my mind that I'm not famous because of something I did. I am because I am my parents' daughter. An offspring that rose from the Golden Trio. I've never really proven my worth. I don't know how I will, but someday I definitely will. 

Maybe after graduation.

James, on the one hand, was a Quidditch superstar. That previous season was the only time he lost. Just like his dad, he was the Gryffindor's Seeker during his first year. The only difference is that, Uncle was appointed and James was chosen after trying out. 

He's a year older than me, so he's on his seventh year in Hogwarts. He will be graduating very soon. I heard he's being scouted by professional Quidditch teams- the Hollyhead Harpies and Chudley Cannons.

The entire Gryffindor house stampeded to the Great Hall together. When we arrived, decorations were up and hanging. One side of the Hall was of scarlet and gold, while the other was emerald and silver. The Hall was already boisterous as it is and when our house arrived, the commotion became even louder.

We ate our breakfasts happily, all giddy and excited.

After the lovely banquet, we all proceeded to Hogwarts' Quidditch pitch. It was an oval-shaped piece of land where hoop goals stood tall on both ends. I found my seat on the front row.

I looked around. Students were filling up the stands like ants. I could feel everyone's jittery excitement.

Moments later, the announcer finally called the teams out. The referee, our Quidditch professor, and the teams were at the center of the field. From where I am, I got a glimpse of a certain blonde who was wearing his house's colors.

I remembered that uneventful evening at the cliff. It was probably the most peaceful I've felt besides all the times I was reading in my room, alone and under the warm blanket Grandma Molly knitted for me.

At the sound of the whistle, the Quaffle was released by the referee. She threw it up in the air. James and Scorpius raced to the ball. Although he was Seeker, he was also the captain. Malfoy, on the other hand was a Captain and a Chaser. Captains get to claim the first ball. 

James beat the Slytherin to it. He immediately passed the Quaffle to one of Gryffindor's Chasers and he sped off, looking for the Golden Snitch.

It was, at the very least, a very intense match. The snitch was nowhere to be spotted and the teams were neck-and-neck with the scores. They're tied down at 80 points each.

My thoughts flew to our bet. Whoever's house wins gets to make a slave out of the loser. I started to get nervous. I'm very confident with my cousin's skills, but the other team's pretty good too. And none of them are giving way to the other. 

My hands were shaking with tension and were already sweating despite the cold air. We were all wearing scarves in our house colors.

I cheered loudly for Gryffindor together with the people in my house.

"Gryffindor! Gryffindor! Gryffindor!" we chanted.

The students in green and silver on the stands opposite us cheered for their team too. I can see them chanting and shouting the name of their House from where I was seated. Even the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs hailed for their bets.

One moment I was shouting to cheer our team, and then the next, I was screaming in fear.

Injuries are common in Quidditch. I don't think there ever was a game where no one fell of his or her broom. But I've never seen someone plunging to the ground from very high up, head first. Someone was falling and dwindling down at a very high speed. A bludger hit him in the back when he was racing towards Gryffindor's goal with the Quaffle in his arms.

I froze on my spot when the person hit the ground in a loud crack. The people around me couldn't care less. The game continued like it always had whenever someone fell because that's normal. And they don't sympathize with the opposing house. The Slytherins across the pitch, on the other hand, had shock written all over their faces.

A deafening sound of a whistle filled the air, indicating that someone has caught the Snitch. The game was over and the Announcer shouted, "Gryffindor wins!"

The Gryffindors around me jumped from their seats and began screaming sweet victory. I remained seated, my eyes on the body sprawled across the green grass of the pitch.

Scorpius Malfoy was unconscious.