Fred and George and the Toilers of Trouble (Year 1) ✔

Chapter 7:2

Feathers fluttered down as the cacophony of flapping wings filled the Great Hall. The first came for Angelina. She received a letter from home and a thin package bound in twine. Smiling, she opened the letter.

"We don't own an owl. I wonder how they were able to send this!"

"Watch out, Ced," called one of the twins.

Cedric handed the parchment from Filch's office back to Lee and ducked as the ashy owl took flight from atop a bowl of brown pears.

"Suppose I should get used to dodging things before tryouts."

"Right, you are. Owls, Bludgers, useless parchment..."

"Trying out for the house team, are we?" Fred questioned.

"Both of us," Lee continued, excitedly. "This is the year for Quidditch, boys. The year. You should know, with Charlie as your brother. He's the last player from a bygone era when absolutely no one could beat Gryffindor to the Quidditch Cup. In his second year, Charlie was instrumental in winning the team its fifteenth title in a row. Their Captain named him The Dragon for his skills in seeking out the Golden Snitch."

"He's fearless on a broomstick," Fred admitted with fondness.

"Charlie Weasley is the best Seeker that Gryffindor's ever had, even with his house coming in second all the years since. Embarrassing, really. But we could not have arrived to Hogwarts at a better time. There are two coveted spots open on the team, now that your oldest brother and Liam Steerage graduated. Incredible Beater, Bill was. Tougher than most. He could stop a Bludger with his chest and let Steerage use the bounce to knock a Chaser off his broom!"

"I'm impressed," said George. "You know more about our brothers than we do."

"I love Quidditch — finest sport in history," Lee declared in a single breath. "And for the past three years, Gryffindor has been the best team never to win. Rumor has it Professor Snape taught the Slytherin players how to cheat. He's their Head of House, you know."

"Snapey turns a blind eye, eh?" Fred noted with relish.

"Five points from the Potions Master," purred George.

Lee nodded in the direction of the long table nearest the opposite wall, where a group of sturdy-looking Slytherin students were clustered together around the Bloody Baron, their gruesome house ghost who was covered in pearly white splashes of blood.

"Is that the team?" Cedric asked, getting a nod.

George wrinkled his forehead. "Why is Tenice Montague sitting with them? No way he's already made the team!"

"His older sister, Denorda. She's a Chaser."

Fred assessed the group. "Right...I recognize the flat blonde hair, lifeless eyes, and hideous smirk."

"She's Quidditch Captain," Lee slurred, through chewing. "The ugly one is Marcus Flint. The other two are Albert Blithe and Ian Parsimonae."

"Parsimonae. Why is that familiar, Fred?"

"That Magical Investigator from Knockturn Alley, George. Must be family."

"So all hope rests on Charlie Weasley, then?" Angelina blurted incredulously, while reading.

Lee swallowed hard and raised his fork. "Greatness awaits him, and I want to be there to help lift the Cup."

"Sorry, but no first year is going to make the team. Not from Gryffindor, at least," she said, without looking in their direction. "The girls have been waiting for a spot to open for years, apparently. Nothing but boys on the team for two decades. Our hope should rest on a balanced Quidditch team, not on some boy named The Dragon. If you ask me, that's the problem with Gryffindor — no girls."