SABAISM | H. POTTER

EIGHT. | SNAKES BELONG ON THE GROUND

Gemini was practically buzzing with excitement as George Weasley, grinning from ear to ear, carried her on his back across the bright grass towards the quidditch pitch.Their energetic steps left a trail across the dew-kissed ground, the atmosphere buzzing with the anticipation of the first practice of the season. As they approached, Harry watched with a mix of emotions—and somewhere between awe and something more tender—his spirits dampened slightly at the sight.

The Gryffindor Quidditch team ambled behind their team captain, Oliver Wood, who appeared utterly engrossed in his fervent mission to lead them to victory. The air was filled with a palpable sense of exhilaration, an unspoken camaraderie forged in shared dreams of winning the Quidditch Cup. Oliver, whose disposition was akin to someone who had just been given the world's most precious gift, cleared his throat to capture his team's unwavering attention.

"I spent the entire summer devising an intricate Quidditch program," he announced, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. "We're going to train earlier, work harder, and extend our sessions! Every practice is crucial now!" Gemini felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine; the prospect of long, grueling training sessions loomed ahead like a storm cloud. She was about to voice her hesitations when the sight of Oliver squinting with incredulous disbelief coupled with mounting frustration caught her attention, silencing her protests.

"What the—? I can't believe this!" Wood exploded, snapping his gaze towards a group gathering across the courtyard—seven boys clad in vibrant emerald robes, their attire gleaming in the sunlight. At the head of the group stood Marcus Flint, a brutish figure that commanded as much fear as he did ridicule. Gemini instinctively scrambled out of George's grasp, the urgency pricking at her instincts. She could sense the brewing storm of confrontation. "Uh-oh, I smell trouble," she muttered under her breath, bracing herself for the incoming clash.

"Hey, Flint! Clear out!" Wood bellowed with indignation, his voice reverberating across the pitch. "I booked the field for Gryffindor!" The tension hung thick in the air like a thundercloud ready to burst.

"Easy, Wood. I have a note," Flint smoothly retorted, a smirk plastered across his smarmy face. Oliver snatched the piece of parchment from Flint's hand, his expression rapidly shifting from determination to disbelief as he read aloud, "I, Professor Severus Snape, do hereby give the Slytherin team permission to practice today, owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

"Wait, what? You've got a new Seeker?" Oliver questioned incredulously, the weight of his disbelief palpable. A pasty-faced boy, with a sense of entitlement that matched his teammates, pushed his way forward.

"Malfoy?" The name rang out, eliciting muffled gasps from the Gryffindors.

A laugh bubbled up from Gemini as she caught the infuriated look on Draco Malfoy's face. "Oi! Just let them have it, Wood. They'll need all the practice they can get with the Slytherin Princess on their team. Merlin, Draco, do you really expect me to be intimidated by your manicured hands and perfectly coiffed hair?" Her taunts ignited a chorus of laughter among the Gryffindors, particularly when the flush of embarrassment crept into Malfoy's cheeks, turning them a ghastly shade of crimson.

"Someone should muzzle you, Cousin," Malfoy hissed, venom dripping from every syllable. Gemini rolled her eyes, ignoring the hollow threat. At that moment, the deliciously wicked urge to poke fun at her cousin flooded her with renewed energy.

"That's right, and that's not all that's new this year," Draco added smugly, reiterating his confidence. The Slytherins, in unison, unveiled their gleaming, state-of-the-art broomsticks, each one radiating splendor and promise.

"Are those Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones?" Ron blurted, unable to mask his astonishment as he stepped closer, trying to grasp the ridiculous advantage they now had.