ELIXIR: A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Thirty Two. The Quidditch House Cup.

"Alright, men. Women. This could very well be my last real competitive game of Quidditch. And Sean and Marcie's too," said Marlowe, pacing back and forth in front of his team. They were all dressed and ready to go in their blue robes, brooms lined up neatly along the wall.

"Aw, don't say that, Marlowe. You're making me sentimental," said Sean.

"Don't interrupt. The rest of you- well... it's your last game with the two of us anyway so... basically, no pressure but we absolutely cannot lose under any circumstances."

Theo and Clara smirked at one another. Luckily, Marlowe was not looking.

"Now, would anyone oblige me in reciting... the magic number."

Everyone stared at him blankly. Everyone except Elliot who raised a tentative hand.

Marlowe nodded at him.

"Four hundred and thirty," said Elliot promptly.

Marlowe beamed. "Glad to see I've indoctrinated you with the true weight of Hogwarts Quidditch. That's correct. That is the number of points we need to be ahead by before Theo can catch the snitch. That is your new best friend. My chasers... score like you've never scored before. Clara, smack the bludgers at those canaries like they've just slept with your boyfriend." (Theo flushed scarlet at this). 

"Speaking of whom, Theo, you keep their seeker distracted at all costs until the score is up. Don't let them catch it before we can get the lead we need. And Sean, don't you go letting any of their goals through. If the Hufflepuff's have a fault, it's that they're honest. And it's to our benefit that that isn't an asset in quidditch. They don't know how to trick anyone. So trust that wherever it looks like the quaffle is heading to, that's probably where it's heading to. You guys, this is life.... Or death."

"Okay, hang on-" said Eddie, raising his hand to stop Marlowe continuing. "I get what you're saying. I do. And your pep talks have always been dramatic, but like..."

"It's borderline goofy, Marlowe," said Clara, finishing for him.

Marlowe blinked, surprised, but then he sighed.

"I'm trying," he began slowly, "to..." He sighed again. "To distract myself from the fact that... this is my last game. I spent seven years thinking that professional quidditch was a given and- well, it's just not going to happen anymore. I chose something else. Someone else." His eyes flickered to Sean. "God, that sounds sappy. Sorry. The point is, this is it for me. And I don't like knowing that, but I don't want to think about yet. I've got one more game to play. And I always wanted to win but... now it's for real. Now, we've really got to."

"So... let's quit talking and let's go do it," said Sean.

Marlowe gave a firm nod. "Yeah. Also... I love you guys. This is a good team. A really good team. And also... last thing I promise- no one break your hand okay?"

Sean grimaced at the thought but laughed along with everyone else.

On that note, they marched out onto the field, Marlowe in the lead. He strode out to shake hands with Hufflepuff's captain, a sixth year named Boris, with his head buzzing and the roar of the crowd muffled in his ears. This was really it. One game and his quidditch career was done. He'd accepted it now. No matter what Caiti said, he knew there was no chance. He'd known it since St. Mungo's. It had taken months to let it sink in, but it had.

Still, he didn't love quidditch any less for it. It wasn't the fault of the sport. Only the people in it. And he was going to enjoy this last game.

---

"Oh my god," said Caiti.

"What?" asked Evelyn, head snapping up. She had a book in her lap which she'd been studying while they waited for the game to begin. N.E.W.T.s were just around the corner and she'd become a machine in the last two weeks, rarely doing anything without a book or notes or, at the very least, her wand out.