Miss Mischief ▶ George Weasley

Chapter Fourteen

October came and went, but not without the excitement that seemed to follow Harry Potter everywhere. On that fateful Halloween, Emerson was mortified when she saw poor Mrs Norris hanging upside down on a torch hook. It took all of her energy not to vomit when she saw the cat, or when she saw the blood on the wall.

Immediately students began to theorize who the "Heir of Slytherin" was, and who he or she could target next. Draco Malfoy's absurd statement of "You'll be next Mudbloods" made Emerson think he could be it. After all, if you were an heir of Salazar Slytherin, you probably would be a Slytherin.

Emerson had to push the worrying out of her mind the best because the first Quidditch match of the season would be the next day. Oliver had been preparing her every practice; she had to be able to jump in at any moment if anything happened to another player. She was worried. She had never played in a match other than last year, and she prayed and hoped that nothing bad would happen this year.

And on the morning of November first, they were all crowded in the locker room and Oliver began his yearly speech. He was trying to motivate them all, but the worried look on their faces from the weather outside prevented them from being so. The sky outside was a dark gray, indicating that it would soon begin to rain. This meant that the snitch would be harder for Harry to find and the game would go on longer.

Emerson clutched her broom tightly in her hand as Oliver continued to go on. She was told that she would need to be prepared, sitting in her room low towards the ground but high enough to where she could immediately fly in. After giving each other final words of encouragement, and Oliver telling Harry to "get the snitch or die trying," they headed out to the pitch.

A mix of cheers and boos erupted from the stand as the Gryffidnor and Slytherin teams took their positions, Emerson floating on the side lines. Madame Hooch forced Oliver and Marcus Flint to shake hands, who gave each other their meanest faces they could muster. "On the whistle!"

As the whistle screamed through the air, fourteen brooms rose high in the sky, and Emerson and Slytherin's reserve player stayed on the edge of the pitch, about fifteen feet in the air. Immediately, Lee Jordan also began running his mouth. "The quaffle is taken by Slytherin Chaser and Captain, Marcus Flint, who flies up the field towards Gryffindor Keeper, Oliver Wood."

Emerson watched as the quaffle was tossed from person to person, and Slytherin continued to score points, showing off the speed of their broom. She gasped when a bludger zoomed right past Angelina's face, making her drop the Quaffle right into Graham Montague's arms.

She looked up into the sky to find the twins, and saw that they were surrounding Harry, trying to get one particular bludger away from him.

More boos and cheers rang through the stadium, bringing Emerson's attention back to the game. It had begun to pour rain now, making it nearly impossible to see.

"Slytherin still remains in the lead," Lee said through the microphone in a bored voice. "Sixty points to zero."

"Damn," Emerson shook her head. From near the ground she was nearly soaking wet. The sky became so dark that when she looked down, fifteen feet looked like fifty. She lowered herself when Madame Hooch's whistle blew.

"What is going on?" Oliver asked as they huddled towards the locker room. "Slytherin is completely destroying us! Fred, George, where were you when that bludger stopped Angelina from scoring?"

Emerson looked up at Oliver. "It seems they were about twenty feet above her, trying to stop a bludger from killing your seeker. Which I remind you, you told him to get the snitch or die trying."

Oliver's mouth dropped open to respond, but Emerson just raised her eyebrow at him.

"The bludger has obviously been fixed," George's face was becoming red, a clear sign he was becoming angry. "The Slytherin's must have done something to it."

"That's impossible, George," Katie piped in. "They've been locked away since last practice."

"Alright, listen to me," Harry butted in. "With you two flying around me there's no way I'm going to catch the snitch. Go help the rest of the team and I'll deal with the bludger."

Fred scoffed. "Are you mental? It'll smash you in a second!"

Oliver cut in. "You heard 'im, you two. Just leave him be. Emery, you be prepared to come in if anything happens."

"'Get the snitch or die trying,'" George mocked, letting out a long string of curse words. "What a stupid thing to say."

As everyone made their way back towards the field, Emerson found a spot in the sky about twenty feet in the air, doing exactly what Oliver said. If Harry was hurt in any way, Emerson would be prepared to fly in and maybe catch the snitch. Of course, her broom wasn't nearly as good as the Nimbus 2001.

The rain began falling harder and harder as Emerson watched all three Gryffindor chasers throw the quaffle back and forth as they tried to score a point. Oliver was right, Gryffindor was surely being destroyed. Emerson couldn't even make out the Slytherin team; they were just blurs of green and silver that sped by.

Emerson could barely see anything, so when she heard Lee announce that Montague scored another ten points she saw nothing. She was parallel with Slytherin's reserve player, Cassius Warrington, who looked around in confusion along with her.

"EMERSON!"

Emerson whipped her head around as she heard a gargled scream and saw a figure of red and gold fly past her. "Harry?" She squinted, trying to see who it was. Then she turned again when she heard a few more shouts along with her name.

Emerson was met face to face with an oncoming bludger.