A collection of not so short, short stories featuring your favourite characters and some characters you might not know much about.
Slow updates in progress.
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As the title suggests, this is volume 1 and volume 2 should soon be un...
Let me just start by apologising. This should have been up a while ago but I got caught up with selecting modules for next year, preparing my dissertation proposal, family arrangements and honestly the list goes on. (I also got busy planning fanfiction for other fandoms - but that's besides the point). I continued to work on this one whenever I got the spare moment so that's why I'm posting it now, in the middle of the night, instead of being asleep.
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I feel like I haven't really reached out to any of you fawns for a while now so feel free to comment to let me know what you've been up to for the last month or so~
Without further ado, here's the one shot
Many of the students at Hogwarts liked to believe that the Quidditch teams were made up of the sorts of people that liked competition. But even still, if you asked the actual players on the team they'd reluctantly agree. But only before telling you that there were varying degrees of competitiveness amongst the players.
There were those, like our delightful captain Rose who dreamt of eviscerating the opposing teams on the pitch and if on the off chance that we failed in that goal, would take out her frustrations on the team during practices. Then there were those on the other side of the scale like our dear star chaser – the only one remaining from last year's squad – who simply enjoyed playing the game and didn't care about the outcome. I liked to think that I was somewhere in the middle – completely neutral. I liked the game, liked to win the game,but I certainly didn't lose sleep over losing matches.
But, when the captain was not only your captain but also your longtime best friend, you were often roped into doing things you really didn't want to. That was why, when Rosie leaned across the breakfast table towards me, I could instantly tell from the way her eyes drifted towards the Slytherin table that something was wrong.
Setting my fork down on my plate, I narrowed my eyes at her. "Alright, what is it this time Weasley?"
"The Slytherin try-outs are today," she confessed easily, finally bringing her eyes to mine.
"How do you even know that?"
"Albus told me," she said offhandedly, and I straightened up in my seat when her eyes suddenly focused on me with an unnerving declaration of intention. Smiling sweetly – deceptively – she pushed the plate of strawberries towards me, knowing they were my favourite. "Cantrell –"
"No," I said instantly with a vehement shake of my head. "I don't care what it is, but I won't do it."
"Where's your loyalty to the team? We need a spy to check out their potential players." Pressing her hands to the table top, she insisted, "Don't you understand?"
"Where's your sense of fair play?"
She swatted her hand as if to bat away the question, "That's for the Hufflepuffs."
