Rory Potter, the Girl Who Lived

A Broken Wand

          "Rory, get up! Bloody hell, I've been shaking you for five minutes!" an exasperated voice says loudly. It's Angelina.
          "Wassamatter?" I ask groggily, struggling to sit up and throw off my bedsheets.
         I grope for my glasses and then put them on, then glance at the clock. Its five o'clock in the morning. "What the hell, Angelina? It's five in the morning, why the hell did you wake me up?"
          "Quidditch practice," she says with a look that tells me she's none too happy about it. "A new training program Wood's thought up. He's off his rocker, in my opinion."
          I groan, but roll out of bed anyways. Angelina waits for me as I pull on my practice clothes and scribble a note to Hermione explaining where I've gone. Then we trudge down to the Quidditch pitch.
          In the locker room, Wood's the only one truely awake. George and Fred both have a bad case of bed hair. Katie nods off against the wall, and when Angelina and I sit down, she promptly drops her head onto George's shoulder, blinking fast to stay awake. Harry's not here yet, so I sit next to Fred.
          When Harry finally arrives, Wood gives us an hour-and-a-half-long speech about the new training and new techniques for the field. At the end, he asks loudly, "Alright, any questions?"
          I jerk awake from where I was dozing off on Fred's shoulder. Everyone else either wakes up or jumps to alertness in similar surprised manners.
          "Yeah, I've got a question Wood," says George with a yawn. "Why didn't you tell us all this yesterday when we were still awake?"
          Wood looks furious, and fumes at us for another ten minutes.
         "Okay," he says after taking a deep breath. "Now let's go practice." 
          We head out of the locker room to see that Ron and Hermione are sitting side by side in the stands, along with that first year Colin Creevey, who snaps pictures of me and Harry, squealing with delight.
          "Why's he taking picture?" Wood demands. "He's a Slytherin spy!"
         "I don't think the Slytherins need a spy, Oliver," says George, pointing. "They're here in person."
          The Slytherin team comes marching out onto the field in a tight bunch, all clad in emerald and silver Quidditch robes.
          "I don't believe it!" he hisses in outrage. "I booked the field for today!"
          Wood starts towards them, hollering, "Flint! Just what d'you think you're doing! I've got the field booked for Gryffindor! You can clear off now!"
          After a wary glance, the team follows him, demanding similar things angrily.
          "Hold it! I've got special permission from Professor Snape," says the Slytherin captain Marcus Flint.
          Flint pulls out a roll of parchment paper sealed with green wax and hands it to Oliver, who gives Flint a look before peeling off the sealant. Unrolling the note, he reads it aloud so we can all hear:
          "'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin Quidditch team special permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'" 
          "You've got a new Seeker?" says Wood skeptically, re-rolling the note and shoving it back at Flint with an angry glare. "Who?"
          And from the middle of the team steps none other than Draco Malfoy. He meets my eyes instantly, looking proud of himself, yet also slightly nervous. I give him an almost nonexistent smile as I look back at him.
          "You're Lucius Malfoy's son," Fred says, glaring at him.
          Sensing a fight, I get ready to use my necklace. I also put a hand on Fred's arm to soothe him. He glances at me and then angrily shakes my hand away.
          "Funny you should mention his father," Flint says with a taunting grin. "He made the most generous gift to the team."
          And the entire Slytherin team holds up Nimbus Two Thousand and One broomsticks, giving Fred and George nasty looks; they both clutch Cleansweep Fives. At that moment, Ron, Hermione and Colin run over.
          "What's going on?" Ron demands. "What's he doing here?"
         "I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," says Draco smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the new brooms my father's bought for our team."
          I sense even more trouble, so I channel energy into my necklace as Ron gapes at the broomsticks in awe.
          "Good, aren't they?" Draco says smoothly. "Hmm . . . perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off the Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."
          The Slytherin team howls with laughter.
          "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione says sharply. "They got in on pure talent."
          I almost cheer out loud for my curly-haired friend as the smug look drops from Draco's face. Its replaced by one of pure hatred.
          "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spits.
          My previous happiness disappears, and I snap. So does everyone else. Wood and Angelina have to restrain the twins from throwing themselves at Malfoy, shouting insults at him the whole time. 
          "How dare you!" I scream, lunging forwards.
         Hermione snatches my arm, but nobody grabs Ron. He pulls out his wand and marches up to Draco, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy! Eat slugs!"
          Malfoy fakes terror as Ron waves his broken and Spellotaped wand. There's a flash of green light, and then Ron is thrown backwards onto the ground.
          "Ron! Ron! Are you alright!?" Hermione squeals, letting go of me and running up to Ron.
         Harry and I join her, dropping to our knees beside him. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, he gives an almighty belch and several slugs dribble out of his mouth and onto his lap.
         The Slytherin team is paralyzed with laughter. Flint is doubled over, hanging onto his new broomstick for support. Draco is on all fours, banging his fist on the ground. Its sickening. Meanwhile, the Gryffindors are crowded around Ron, who is belching up large, glistening slugs. Nobody seems to want to touch him.
          "Let's bring him to Hagrid's," Harry suggests. "He'll know what to do."
          Harry and Hermione nod and pull Ron to his feet.
          "I'll join you two in a moment. I would like to have a few, ahem, choice words with Mr. Malfoy."
         Draco hears me and looks up, fear in his eyes. Harry gives me a quizzical look, but he and Hermione drag Ron off, swerving around Colin Creevy, who's trying to take pictures. I turn to Draco.
          "So," I say in a threatening tone. He stands up slowly, looking at me with terrified blue eyes.
          "So?" he mumbles.