The Collision Theory | Remus Lupin

57. Son Of A Bludger

"You bastard! I can't! Believe! You!" As soon as the crowd disperses, I grab a cushion from the couch, and emphasise my words by hitting the boy with it.

"Ow! Bloody Hell Novak, stop!"

"You write my name without permission?!"

James rubs his arm, pouting, "You need the push."

"The push to what? Fail?"

"To realise that you're good! God, you need to have at least an ounce of self-confidence."

"The game is less than a week away," I sigh, knowing that James Fleamont Potter will be the last person to let me back away from this.

"So, you'll come to the try out?"

I throw the pillow back into the couch, feeling very much defeated, "Fine."

*

"What's the worry? You'll do fine."

"Gee, thanks Lily," I drum my fingers against the desk nervously. I passed the night dreaming of all the different ways that the try-outs could go wrong, plus a mildly disturbing one where the snitch was actually a miniature Snape and was attacking my face.

"You're welcome," She beams, "oh, and you spelt Augurey wrong."

"Can you blame me? I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Well then I suggest that you don't fall asleep in my class Miss Novak, or I might have to give you a detention for even more lack of concentration than you are giving me now," Professor McGonagall says behind me, and I almost snap my quill in fright.

"Sorry Professor," I apologize hastily, catching the boys sniggering silently out of the corner of my eye. Keeping my head down, I manage to complete all of the questions by the end of the lesson, although I am sure that half of the sentences don't make sense.

*

Following Alice down to dinner like a zombie, I hardly notice my name being called.
Sleep-deprived Aylin is not a good Aylin.

"Novak! Lin!" I turn around to see Sirius, with the Hufflepuff Rissa in tow, "Lindaroo!"

"I heard you on Lin, idiot." I sigh, before turning to the girl, "Hey Rissa."

"Hi," She beams.

"Wait, so she gets a 'hey' and I get 'idiot'?"

I shrug, sharing a grin with Marissa, "Yeah."

"And here I was, about to inquire politely about the events of your day," Sirius pouts.

Marissa perks up at that, "Speaking of which, good luck for tomorrow, Novak. You'll do great."

"Thanks," The bubbling anxious feeling returns, and I force a smile.

"I'll get the tarot cards to you by Wednesday morning," Tarry turns to Black, "I want cake this time, though."

"Of course," Sirius grins, shaking her  hand. At that, she leaves with a little wave off to her own table.

"What just happened?"

"She's our dealer," Sirius says simply, and when I respond with a look of confused horror, he barks with laughter, "no, not like that. She gets our prank supplies, and we pay her with cake."