“Jane! Jane!”
Jane Tweedy knew the voice bellowing her name before she turned around and saw the yellow head bobbing toward her. Ludo Bagman shouldered his way past a gaggle of sixth or seventh years in Gryffindor colors, who glowered after him as if to say, “Another pushy Slytherin.” He was still twenty feet away from her when he shouted, “Did you make it?!”
She did not shout back, but scooted into an alcove along the corridor to wait for him. Jane and Ludo were starting their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They were in different houses, but somehow, they always kept managing to cross paths with each other. Now, Ludo caught up to her and asked again, his baby blue eyes round with excitement. “Did you make it?!”
“I don’t know,” she answered him.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” demanded Ludo, chuckling as if he thought she was pulling his leg. “Don’t tell me you’re too afraid to look! Come on!” he laid hold of her hand. “Where’s your Common Room, I’ll look for you.”
“EH, YOU LOVEBIRDS, NO HOLDING HANDS IN THE CORRIDORS!” a Scots voice barked loudly, and Jane, blushing furiously, wrested her hand free. Two other Slytherin boys caught up to Ludo and flanked him, teammates from his Quidditch squad. Dugald Campbell was Ludo’s fellow Beater. Despite being a year ahead of him, he was smaller than the strapping, blond boy, but solid as a brick. “Miss Tweedy the Weedy,” grinned the Scot. “What’s the call, then, in or out?”
“Or another year in reserve,” smirked the second boy, slouching against the wall. Gordon Lloyd was starting at Keeper this year, and, though a year behind her in his classes, he was only a few weeks younger than Jane. ‘Striking’ was the operative word for him. He wasn’t even Jane’s type – not that she claimed to have a ‘type’ – but there was something undeniably attractive about his rangy good looks, his touseled chestnut hair and smoky, hazel eyes. “Remember, Bagman, it only counts if she’s starting.”
“I already told him, I don’t know,” Jane bristled. “What business is it of yours, anyway, Mr. Campbell the Bramble?” She directed this at the Scottish boy, who laughed it off.
“I’ve got five Sickles against you, that’s what, and I don’t care to lose ‘em.”
Jane’s mouth compressed into a frown, and she cocked her blue-grey eyes over at Ludo, as she folded her arms over her chest. “What’s this about?”
“What’s what about?” Ludo regarded her with that Big Dumb Smile that almost made him look innocent.
Gordon sidled up to her and confided, “Ludo thinks so much of you, he’s bet us each a Galleon that you’ll be starting at Chaser for Ravenclaw this year.”
“Oh, now, chaps, I didn’t say Chaser…” Ludo began to protest.
“You did what?” Jane regarded the big blond lunk with exasperation. “You’re incorrigible.”
“I’m going to assume that means brilliant and devilishly charming,” Ludo beamed at her, “and yes, I have that much confidence in you.”
“Save your confidence for someone else. I haven’t made anything yet.”
“Well, Bagman, there you are,” Gordon parted company with the wall and extended a hand. “You owe me a Galleon.”
“She said ‘yet,’ Gordon, ‘yet’ – that’s the important word,” Ludo shook his head, pulling an indulgent grin out of his bag of tricks. “Jane and I are off right now to the Ravenclaw Common Room to find out how things stand.” He reached for her arm, but was deterred by an angry flap of her elbow.
“You won’t mind taking us along as witnesses?” Gordon hinted coolly.
“He’d damn well better not, I’m not trusting his word,” Dugald put in.
“First off,” Jane raised her voice sharply, glaring at Ludo, “I am not letting any of you lot into my Common Room. Secondly, and for the last time, I don’t know if I’ve made the team. Alfred hasn’t posted the roster yet.”
“What’s he waiting for?” Gordon asked.
“Postponing the inevitable doom,” Dugald chortled. “He can’t field a team better than ours, and he knows it.”
“We’ve already got the best Seeker,” Jane retorted.
“Better not let Captain Shrike hear you say that,” Gordon muttered, mouth hinting at a sneer.
“Angharad Jones can fly circles around Theo Shrike,” she snorted. “She’s beaten him twice already.”
“Oh-ho-ho,” Ludo shook his head at her, “you lost to us two years ago, in case you’ve forgotten.” No one who’d seen it had forgotten that match. Everyone had laughed at Alfred Mathews for starting his second year reserve Seeker-in-training against the Slytherin roughnecks, but they’d stopped laughing once they’d seen Angharad play. She was as tiny and quick as a mosquito, and twice as pesky.
“We only lost because your side practically killed our Keeper and ran up a lot of goals on us,” Jane argued. “Angharad still caught the Snitch, even after you broke her ankle with a Bludger.”
“That wasn’t me, that was dear departed Gleason,” Ludo protested, referring to the hulking, then-seventh-year Beater who had been succeeded by Campbell.
“Well, he’s not here to listen to this, and you are,” Jane informed him curtly. “If you want my opinion…”
“Do we get a vote?” said Dugald.
“No,” Jane glared at him, then turned her attention back to Ludo. “Someone ought to tell Theo Shrike he’s gotten much too bulky to play Seeker any more. He’s a seventh year, for pity’s sake.”
Far from being offended, Ludo jumped in eagerly; debating Quidditch was his favorite thing after actually playing Quidditch. “Oh, now, that’s hardly fair. Your Emrys Mathews played Seeker through seventh year,” he reminded her.
“Emrys Mathews was built like a broomstick and weighed ninety pounds soaking wet,” Jane replied. “And five of that was his hair.” Emrys was the older brother of Alfred, the current Ravenclaw Captain, and had been regarded as the best Seeker in his day by everyone but the Slytherins. “Theo’s too big, and too slow, and I’ll wager anything he’s not even bothering to train another Seeker to replace him next year.”
“Anything?” Ludo’s eyes lit up as he fished a little notebook out of his robes.
“Put that away,” Jane rolled her eyes, “I was speaking rhetorically.”“Well, Miss Tweedy,” Gordon shook his head with a chuckle, “if you’d like to tell our esteemed Captain he’s bulky and slow, be our guest. But I don’t think any one of us cares to be benched for it.”
There was a general groan of agreement among the three boys, and Jane remarked, “He really is an arrogant prat, isn’t he? I’ve heard it enough times from Freddy, but I thought that was just sibling rivalry talking.”
“Now, Jane,” Ludo warned, “you said that, not us. Theo takes his Quidditch very seriously, and he really does have a good head for the game. He’s played Seeker since his third year, and be honest, how many people would want to give that up?”
“I know, I know,” Jane agreed with this. “But his team would be better off if he’d stop being such a glory-hog.”
“Heh, fat chance of that,” Ludo grumbled, then glanced at his teammates as if to say, ‘You didn’t hear me say that.’
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Jane sniffed at Ludo, “I’ve got better things to do than stand around while you make bets on me.”
She could hear Dugald cackling as she stalked off, and Gordon called after her, in his sardonic way, “Good for you, Jane; keep him in his place!”
The last thing she heard was Ludo, undaunted, shouting, “Good luck, Jane! Tell me as soon as you find out!”
It had been over a week since she’d gone through the annual Quidditch tryouts. She’d been on the team last year as a reserve player, and had started in the match against Hufflepuff, where she’d actually scored a goal (she liked to tell herself that she would have scored two or three if Angharad hadn’t caught the Snitch so quickly that day). Alfred had been encouraging about her chances of moving up to the starting seven this year, but nothing was ever certain until the new team rosters were posted. And she couldn’t imagine why in the world he was taking so long. She was discussing the matter with her best friend, Irene Lupin, as they came into their Common Room that night after dinner. Her eyes were scanning the room as soon as they emerged through the magic looking glass that served as the entrance from the outside corridor. It didn’t take long for her to spot Alfred’s curly head, as he sat, gazing out the long windows from the depths of an armchair. Instantly, she went trotting over to him, Irene on her heels.
“Alfred!” she offered him a toothy smile as she came within range of him. “Hello!”
“Eh, Jane,” he glanced up at her; his answering attempt at a smile was indulgent, but cheerless.
Undeterred, Jane plopped down in the chair opposite him and sat with her elbows on her knees. “I don’t mean to be pushy or anything, but you are going to post the team one of these days, aren’t you? Everyone else has had theirs up for--”
“Don’t worry, you made it,” he assured her. “I’m starting you at Chaser this year. That is what you wanted to know, right?”
Jane sat back in her chair with a sigh of relief. “Thanks!” she grinned.
“Don’t thank me too soon,” he warned. “I’ve got to get a ‘full, final, complete’ roster to Hooch by the end of the week, and I’m stumped. I’d might as well just draw straws to get through this year and let the rest of you sort out the mess after I’m gone.”
“What mess?” Jane asked him.
“What’s the matter?” chimed in Irene, perching on the arm of Jane’s chair.
Alfred sat forward in his chair and explained. “When it comes to Quidditch, my philosophy has always been that you don’t just build a team for this year, you look at where you’re going to be next year. Who’s leaving, what slots will you have to fill, right? Remember two years ago, Jane, I told you why I put Angharad on as my second reserve; I knew we’d need a new Seeker after Emrys, and I wanted to give her a year to train with him before she took over. I knew last year, when I put you and Marion in as reserves, that I was going to have a couple of Chaser slots open this year, and I’d probably want you for them. Marion’s starting this year, too,” he added; Marion Ogle was only a second year, but she had played Wee Wizard Quidditch in London, and she was a sturdy little bundle of spunk and tenacity. “It’s going to be you, her, and Moira – and this is Moira’s last year, so now I’m adding Stickley as a reserve, with the idea that he’ll train at Chaser and, with some practice, he’ll be ready for the third slot next year. You see?”
Jane nodded, and said, “So, what’s the trouble?”
“Me! This is my last year, and I absolutely have to train a new Beater before I go, or Aubrey’s going to be stuck on his own next year trying to break in someone with no experience. Beaters – well, we’re probably the second most difficult position to fill after Seeker, it’s pretty specialized. You’ve got to have a certain combination of physical strength, and agility, and nerve. Not the sort of position you want to put a first year in, unless you want him spending the whole term in the hospital ward.” He gave a bitter chuckle at this image. “I need to find a prospective Beater for my second reserve slot – everything else is set, that’s the last hold up.”
“You had enough people try out didn’t you?” Jane asked.
“First years! Girls! – No offense,” he apologized quickly for his tone. “I’ve got about three others I’d take in a flash if I were planning for any other position. There’s a third year, Rose Webster – if this were Llew Jones’s last year, I’d have her out practicing at Keeper before you could say ‘Caerphilly Catapults.’ But none of them are Beater material, and that’s a fact.”
“What are you going to do?” Irene asked him, with a thoughtful expression.
“Well, Madam Hooch had an idea; she said I could come out and watch her class on Exploring Broom Sports tomorrow. I suppose it’s worth a shot, although if they haven’t tried out or made the team by this point, they’re either no good or not interested.”
“It can’t hurt to look at them, though, can it?” Jane suggested.
“It’s pretty well my last shot,” he admitted. “If I don’t catch a fish in that pond, I’ll have to go with what I’ve got and take my lumps.”
On Tuesday afternoon, Alfred walked out to the lawn where Madam Hooch’s class was meeting. Exploring Broom Sports was an elective class for the fourth-year-and-up students who did not play for their house Quidditch teams, but still wanted a chance to get out for some fresh air and flying time. Flying classes were required for only first and second years, and the few students that young who were already on their Quidditch teams were allowed to opt out, if they chose to, since it was assumed they already knew how to fly and were getting enough practice on the pitch. Third years could take “Advanced Flying” as an elective, and the “Broom Sports” class was open to fourth through seventh years. They flew relays and obstacle courses, and played a scaled down version of Quidditch (Chasers and Keeper only), as well as other broom-mounted team games.
Alfred had taken his time joining the class; he wanted to be able to just sit and watch, and he had asked Madam Hooch not to warn her students that he was coming out to scout them. This afternoon, she had them playing Quodpot, the American game, which involved the opposing teams tossing around the Quod, a variant on the Quaffle, trying to move it up the field and drop it in a pot before it exploded. Alfred arrived just in time to enjoy the sight of the Quod going off in the hands of a Slytherin fifth year, who was thus counted out of the game and forced to go and sit down on the sidelines. The Slytherin students were playing against a team of Ravenclaws, denoted by the blue markers pinned to their backs, and the Ravenclaws let off a big cheer when the Slytherin player had to exit the game. Alfred could see why; there were only four Ravenclaws against a green-tagged Slytherin team that still outnumbered them by two. Madam Hooch threw a fresh Quod to one of the Ravenclaws, and they took off again. Two Ravenclaw girls, whom Alfred recognized but was not certain he could put the correct names to, moved the Quod toward their pot, tossing it back and forth while the Slytherins harried them. A Slytherin girl bumped one of them and got hold of the Quod, and away they went toward the other end of the field. The half-dozen Slytherins were firing the ball one to another, in rapid succession, when from out of nowhere a black and blue blur came zooming up between two of them, intercepting the ball with both hands. Still flying with no hands on the shaft, the player summed up in an instant the positions of the remaining Ravenclaws, shouted, “Polly!” and fired the Quod like a cannonball to another player halfway up the field. Once rid of the Quod, the Ravenclaw Rocket grabbed hold of the broomstick again and shot through a mob of Slytherins in pursuit of Polly, looping and dodging at them to turn them away from their mark. Polly lobbed the Quod to another teammate, who got it into the pot, and the Ravenclaws cheered again. Alfred whooped and applauded them from the side of the field, and watched with growing glee as his Ravenclaw housemates ate away at the Slytherin team. The same player kept drawing his attention, the one who had intercepted the Quod on their last scoring drive. Alfred didn’t know much about defensive strategies in Quodpot, but this one was a devil at keeping the Slytherins in check; twice more, the Quod exploded in Slytherin hands while that black and blue defender turned back their advance toward the pot. That’s the one, Alfred was ready to jump for joy. Where the hell have you been hiding…
At last, the Slytherins, tiring of this tenacious pest, managed to chuck the ball at the Ravenclaw player just as it went off, and he was forced to land and quit the match. Alfred wasted no time in running over and exclaiming, “Great game!”
“Whoo, thanks!” the beaming, panting Ravenclaw was holding his glasses in one hand and knocking bits of Quod from his bristly, brown hair with the other.
“Kevin Grahame, isn’t it?” Alfred asked him.
The boy nodded, putting his glasses back on and beating orange Quod ash from his robes. “That’s me!”
“I’m Alfred Mathews.”
“Gosh, I guess we all know who you are,” Kevin grinned at him. “So, how does the team look this year? Think you can take the cup? Oh, did Jane make Chaser?” he asked suddenly.
“She’s on; I told her yesterday.”
“Phew, good! That’s about all anyone’s heard out of her for the past week, you know. Did I make it, hope I made it, what if I didn’t make it…?” Kevin mimicked Jane’s Yorkshire bray convincingly, and Alfred laughed.
“Hey, come sit down with me, Grahame, let’s talk.” Kevin obligingly followed him over to a comfy spot on the grass, and they plopped down together. “Look,” said Alfred, “I’m going to get right to the point. I want you on the Quidditch team.”
“Me?” Kevin looked surprised, but he was smiling. “Gosh, where’d that come from! I’ve never even tried out!”
“I know, and why haven’t you?” Alfred demanded. “You shouldn’t be out here ‘Exploring Broom Sports,’ you should be playing the real thing!”
Kevin shook his head. “No… I can’t, really. I mean – I don’t want to.”
“Don’t want to? What’s that mean?” Alfred was still chuckling, as if this had to be some sort of joke.
“Look, Alfred, I’m sorry. It’s really nice of you to ask me, but--” He shook his head. “I don’t play Quidditch.”
“All right, Grahame, quit kidding around, I’m serious about this. I’m in dire need of a reserve who can train as a Beater, and you’re perfect.”
“I’m not kidding,” Kevin was serious, as he got to his feet. “I mean it. I don’t play.”
Alfred stared at him now, thoroughly perplexed. “You’re nutters! You have got to be the only student ever in the entire history of Hogwarts to turn down a position on his house Quidditch team.”
“Maybe I am nutters,” Kevin bristled, holding his ground. “Or maybe I just have priorities.”
“Look,” Alfred got up, as well, “I know you’re supposed to be a brain, that’s great. My brother is a genius, he was head boy for crying out loud, and he still played. It’s not an either-or proposition, Grahame.”
“It’s not about brains,” Kevin argued. “It’s about – oh, look, I don’t want to fight about it. I’m not doing it, that’s all.”
Jane and Irene spotted Alfred in the Common Room that evening, sprawled with his stockinged feet up on a couch, thumbing through the latest issue of “Magical Sports Monthly” with a disconsolate expression.
“Any luck?” Jane asked him.
“Yes,” he frowned; “all rotten.” He drew up his feet out of her way and she sat down.
“No prospects?”
Sitting up, he asked her abruptly, “How well do you know Kevin Grahame?”
It was Irene who answered, “Pretty well, why?”
“I got to watch him play Quodpot in Hooch’s class today. He was having a blast, flying with no hands, harrassing the Slytherins – he was playing defensive strategy, for crying out loud! He’s an absolute natural, he’s even got the right build for a Beater.”
“So, what’s the hold up?” Jane queried.
“He doesn’t want to play.” Alfred still looked as if he could not believe this.
“Why not?” Jane was as amazed as he was.
“I don’t know. He’s got ‘priorities.’” Alfred made a face as he recalled the word. “He says it’s not his class work, but I don’t know what else it could be.”
“Well,” Jane pondered, “he’s never tried out for the team. Maybe he really doesn’t want to play. You can’t force him, can you?” She asked this as if she hoped it might be an option.
“No,” Alfred smiled slightly at this. “I just hate to see all that talent go to waste.”
From where she sat, Jane could see Freddy Shrike coming down the stairs from the boys’ dormitory; when he spotted her, he held up a book for her notice, and she nodded at him. “Don’t give up, Alfred,” she patted his shoulder as she moved to go meet Freddy. “I’ll bet Marion would play Beater if you asked her.”
“I’ll bet she would,” Alfred chuckled.
Freddy had brought down the Ambrose Armstrong book he had promised Jane, and she went to collect it from him. Hanging back, Irene said, in a very soft voice, “Alfred, would you like me to speak with Kevin? About the team?”
“Why, do you know something I don’t?” he looked curious.
“Maybe,” she hedged. “I can’t promise anything, but…”
“Be my guest. If you can bring him around, I’ll worship the ground you walk on.”
Irene was pretty certain she knew what was bothering Kevin, and even more certain that she was the only one in on his Big Secret. At the end of first year, as they were on the verge of leaving Hogwarts for the train, Kevin had pulled her aside and whispered, “Irene, can I talk to you? Somewhere private,” he’d requested, looking awkward. “It’s sort of personal.”
The families of the first years had been there for a special Visiting Day, and everyone had been in the midst of the last flurry of departure, but she had let Kevin lead her back up the stairs to the dorms, out of sight and earshot of the others. Once they had stopped on a deserted landing, she had asked him, beginning to worry, “Kevin, what’s wrong?”
“There’s something I’ve got to warn you about,” he began, then he must have noticed the anxious look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, it’s nothing that bad. But…” he lowered his voice again. “Look, if you ever hear anything about my having a crush on you, don’t panic. It’s not true.”
This was not at all what she had expected, and she had to laugh a little when she asked, “Who says you have a crush on me?”
“No one,” he assured her. “I wasn’t even going to tell you, but I was afraid it might get back to you, and you’d misunderstand. You see, I’ve got this problem with my parents. With my mother, mostly,” he corrected, wincing.
“Is this about her not wanting you to be a Wizard?” Irene asked gently.
“No, this is a whole other problem,” he sighed. “My Dad keeps telling her ‘It’s only a phase,’ but that’s what he said about my levitating things, too, and you know how that turned out. I guess it’s no wonder she’s worried.”
“Worried about what?” Irene sat down on the stairs and patted the step beside her. She had a feeling this was going to take a while.
“About me, and…” he fished for a word as he sat down, and rolled his eyes as he settled on, “girls.”
“What about you and girls?” Irene encouraged him to go on, after he came to a halt here.
“Well…” Kevin gave her a sidelong look as if trying to anticipate her reaction. “The thing is… I guess you could say I’ve never had a Little Em’ly, just a terrible lot of Steerforths.”
Now he’d lost her. “What’s a Steer Forth?” It sounded like a new model of broom.
“Oh, sorry, David Copperfield,” he explained. “The point is,” Kevin finally looked her square in the eye and laid it out in carefully chosen words, “I’ve never had crushes on girls.”
“Oh,” Irene nodded, now understanding where they were going.
“She’s dying for Dad to come home and tell her I’ve got a crush on some girl here – gotten over ‘the phase,’ you know – and he sort of wants to tell her something just so she won’t make a fuss. He was angling for Polly – lots of Muggle grandparents and all – but I told him I didn’t know her that well. You and Jane are my best girl friends, and – well, there’s no way I want anyone thinking I have a crush on Jane! Not that I don’t like her but, gosh, can you imagine if that got out! I’d end up with two black eyes, one from her and one from Bagman!”
Irene had to get rid of a good fit of giggles over this before she could speak. “So, you’ve noticed that, too?”
“Has anyone not noticed?” Kevin challenged. “I mean, the only person who doesn’t think there’s something going on there is Jane, and she’s bluffing. Gosh, Bagman’s like a big puppy around her, she’s got to know he likes her.”
“Oh, I think she knows,” Irene smiled wisely, and resisted the urge to say more. “I’m still not certain how far I trust Ludo, but you have to admit, they’re awfully cute together.”
“Oh, yeah, adorable,” Kevin snorted. “The thing is,” he got back on track, “I sort of told my Dad that if he thinks I have to have a crush on someone, well, you’re probably the best option. I mean, it would help if you had a few Muggle relatives, but…”
“I’m still preferable to telling them about Freddy.” With a sympathetic smile, Irene finished the thought for him.
Kevin suddenly looked panicked, and he hissed, “You know?”
“Well, you’re not Jane and Ludo, but I’ve had an idea for a while.”
“Gosh, what did I do?” he fretted. “I mean, I’ve tried not to be obvious…”
“Nothing, Kevin, nothing! You’re fine! No one else would think a thing. The truth is, I wasn’t certain about you for a long time; it was Freddy I picked up on first.”
Kevin stared at her as her meaning soaked in. “You think Freddy… likes me?”
“Doesn’t he?” Irene asked.
“I – I don’t know. I mean… We’re friends, but... gosh, I’d never tell him about the rest of it! I’d scare him to death.”
“Don’t bet on it,” said Irene.
“IRENE!” Jane’s voice came up the stairs, from some distance below. “Are you up there?”
“I’m here!”
“Come on, everyone’s leaving! We have to go!”
Kevin grabbed her arm as they got up. “Irene, don’t tell anyone anything, all right? Especially not Freddy. I mean, I know you’re the Divination Expert and all, but, I don’t know, I just can’t see him liking--”
“It’s all right, I won’t say a word, not to anyone. I’m very good at keeping secrets,” Irene admitted, just a tad ruefully.
She and Kevin had had no further conversation about his crushes, real or pretend, and she had never had any sort of conversation with Freddy on the subject, but she was pretty certain she was right about them. Irene was generally right in her assessments of people. Her father called it divination, but she suspected it was closer to Muggle psychology. Crushes or no, Kevin and Freddy were certainly the best of friends, and it was not easy to catch one without the other. Finally, after a full day of trying to corner Kevin alone, Irene gave up and said to him, point blank, over the table in the Great Hall, “Kevin, if you’ve got a minute, would you come help me with something after dinner?”
“All right, what is it?” he asked.
“Come up to the library with me,” was all the answer she would give him.
He agreed to this, and shortly after they had finished eating, the two of them left the Great Hall together.
“So, what’s this thing you need help with?” he asked her cheerfully.
“It’s not really for me, it’s for someone else,” she answered mysteriously.
“What sort of someone else?” he looked suspicious, but not alarmed.
“Let’s just find somewhere quiet, shall we,” Irene smiled at him. “Then we’ll talk.”
They found a secluded table buried back among the stacks of the library, and sat down together.
“Can you tell me now?” Kevin asked, with a small grin. “I feel like I’m on a spy mission or something.”
Irene cut to the chase. “Alfred says he asked you to join the Quidditch team and you turned him down.”
Kevin got to his feet, and he was no longer smiling. “That’s right, and you can tell him I’m still turning him down. I can’t believe you dragged me up here for that!”
Irene’s grey eyes were calm when she said, “I know why you said no to him.”
“The Divination Expert sees all,” he grumbled, stubbornly standing his ground.
“It’s not divination,” Irene reminded him; “you told me, yourself, remember?”
“I didn’t tell you, you figured it out,” Kevin argued. “That’s divination.”
“No, it’s observation.” Getting to her feet, as well, she leaned across the table so she could speak to him without raising her voice. “Kevin, you love flying, you know you’d enjoy this, everyone wants you on the team--”
“Not everyone,” he corrected. “I won’t do something that could come between us like this.”
Compressing her lips in gentle frustration, Irene said something she hardly ever said to anyone. “Kevin, you’re being silly. Look at Jane and me, she plays Quidditch and I don’t, and we’re still best friends.”
“That’s different!” Kevin protested. “You don’t hate the game. You haven’t spent your entire life with an arrogant, bullying git of a brother who’s always rubbing your nose in the fact that he’s a Big Star Athlete and you’re not. All anyone here cares about is Quidditch this and Quidditch that, no wonder he gets sick of hearing about it. Well, I am not going to be some big-shot show-off Beater, Irene; I won’t do that to him. He’s my best friend, never mind the rest of it, and I won’t hurt him that way.”
“Kevin…”
“I’d feel like I was betraying him!”
“Kevin…”
“I know you think I’m being silly, but this is important, I’m not going to let some stupid game ruin the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me…”
“Kevin, you’re getting a little excited,” Irene shushed him, and, falling silent, he finally sat down again. Irene waited a moment then asked, “Has Freddy said he doesn’t want you playing?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Have you asked him?”
“No-o-o,” he groaned at her lecturing tone.
“Maybe you should. Honestly,” she insisted, “just mention it, tactfully, that Alfred wants you, and see what he says. You might be surprised.”
Kevin found Freddy sitting at his desk up in the dorm, poring over a textbook and scribbling notes. He looked up when Kevin came in, and smiled at him. “Did you get Irene sorted out?”
“More or less. What are you doing?”
“Transfiguration. Is it because we’re fourth years now, or does McGonagall give about ten times as much homework as Dumbledore used to do?”
“Does she?” asked Kevin, distractedly.
Freddy pushed the book away and put down his quill. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“No, you’re not. You’ve been in a mood ever since dinner last night. Sit down,” Freddy pointed at his bed.
“That’s all right,” Kevin declined, backing away with one foot. “I don’t want to bother you.”
“It bothers me more that you won’t tell me what’s wrong. Come on,” Freddy encouraged him, scooting his chair around so he was facing the bed. “Sit down and talk to me. I’m your friend, remember?” he smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Kevin looked down into the clear, blue eyes that watched him so attentively, and decided that he’d might as well get it over with. He did not sit down, but shifted his weight on his feet a bit awkwardly before he said, “Alfred wants me on the Quidditch team.”
To Kevin’s shock, Freddy’s whole face lit up as he broke into an ecstatic grin. “Are you serious!? That’s great! What are you playing? When do you start?”
“I – I don’t know. I haven’t told him yes, yet.”
Freddy was still radiating excitement as he demanded, “Why not? What’s the problem?”
“Well, I--” Kevin finally sat down on the edge of the bed with a plop and said, with a puzzled frown, “I thought you hated Quidditch.”
“I hate my brother!” Freddy declared, correcting him. “Two different things, they just happen to overlap. I didn’t even know you were trying out,” he was still bubbling with joy. “Why didn’t you tell me? Oh, oh, did Jane make it?” he asked suddenly. “She’ll have a fit if you got on and she didn’t.” Freddy looked as if he would have found this highly amusing.
“No, she’s on,” Kevin told him, still confounded by his enthusiasm. “You mean – you’re really not upset about this?”
“Upset about what!?” Freddy beamed brightly.
“Me, being a big-shot show-off Quidditch star!” He thought the problem would have been obvious.
“You’ve never been a show-off about anything,” Freddy laughed. “Come on, you’ll be great at this! I’d come out to all the matches if you were playing.”
Kevin stared at him for a minute, then blurted irritably, “Gosh, I wish you’d told me that in the first place!”
“Now what’s the matter?” Freddy asked. The remains of his gleeful smile were still shaping his face, but his eyes were showing a trace of annoyance.
Kevin squashed his mouth shut to keep himself from saying something he’d regret, and settled for, “Nothing.”
“Oh, don’t start that again!” Freddy groaned.
“The very first day of classes, when we came in from flying lessons,” Kevin pointed at him, “you made this big deal about how stupid Quidditch was, and how much you hated all these big show off Quidditch stars like Bagman, and your brother.”
“I told you, I hate my brother. And Bagman’s a dolt, even Jane Tweedy admits that,” Freddy snickered. “But I still don’t see what this has to do with you trying out--”
“I didn’t try out!” Kevin corrected him angrily. “Alfred saw me playing Quodpot in Madam Hooch’s class, and came after me. I’ve never tried out, not in four years. He thought I was ‘nutters’ when I turned him down.”
“Well, so would I,” Freddy laughed with surprise. “Why on earth would you turn him down?”
Kevin was breathing heavily. “You really don’t understand, do you?” he murmured. “I can’t believe…” he felt like an idiot, and his heart ached as he said, “I wasted all this time, worrying about this, and you don’t even care.” Avoiding Freddy’s eyes, Kevin turned to walk away from him.
“Kevin, wait.” Freddy got to his feet and reached out a hand to stop him. Kevin looked back at him, and whatever his brown eyes were showing, Freddy reacted visibly to his look. “You dope!” the blond boy exclaimed. “Do you mean to tell me that’s why you’ve been in Hooch’s stupid Broom Sports class with all the duffers, instead of out on the pitch with Alfred and Aubrey and the rest of them? You’re the best flier in the whole class, and you never went out for Quidditch because you thought I wouldn’t like it?”
“Yes,” Kevin confessed.
Freddy observed him quietly for a moment, a sorry, sympathetic shadow creeping over his face as he said, “You don’t have to worry about what I think.”
“Well, I do! I care a lot about what you think!” Kevin took a couple of breaths and smothered the urge to blurt out the deepest secrets of his heart, before he said, “You’re my friend. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. And there is no way in the world I would ever do anything that could make you hate me.”
“You dope,” said Freddy, again, but with a fond smile, and a softened voice. “Nothing could ever make me hate you, don’t you know that?”
Oh, gosh… A funny shudder rippled through Kevin as he gazed into the cool, azure waters of those eyes, and fought back the desire to do something that he was pretty certain would make Freddy hate him, no matter what he said. Although, Kevin considered, he’d completely misjudged Freddy’s reaction on the Quidditch business, maybe he was making too many assumptions about this, as well…
These thoughts had filled no more than a moment before the door opened and a voice called into the room, “Kevin?”
Kevin and Freddy both jumped back from each other at the interruption. Freddy landed against the chair and tumbled into it, while Kevin reached for the bedpost to steady himself.
“There you are!” said Aubrey Liang, who did not appear to have noticed anything odd. “Look, Alfred told me to leave you alone, but I had to come up here. You’ve got to be on the team, Kevin!” he begged shamelessly. “Whatever the hang-up is, we’ll work around it, whatever it takes. I don’t want to get stuck with some little firstie trying to play Beater next year.”
“Beater!” Freddy, who had been hunched over his homework, furiously scribbling nonsense, now popped out of his chair, with the big, excited grin on his face again. “They want you for Beater!?”
“Only reserve,” Kevin protested. “Alfred wants me to train for next year.”
“Come on, Freddy,” Aubrey put in, “you’ve got to help me talk him into it, we really need him.”
“That settles it,” declared Freddy, and Kevin thought he might drown in those blue eyes when his dearest friend said, with a mock-theatrical air that made him all the more charming, “No more arguments, Kevin! Ravenclaw needs you! Are you going to break our hearts, or are you going to go out there and make us proud!?”
If this had been one of his fantasies, Kevin would have proclaimed, ‘I’ll make you proud, my dearest darling!’ and he and Freddy would have plunged into each other’s arms and kissed with transcendent passion, but Freddy didn’t know the script for this fantasy, and besides, Aubrey was watching.
“Come on, Kevin, what do you say?” Aubrey begged.
“What am I supposed to say, if you’re all going to gang up on me?” Kevin protested, grinning. “All right, all right, if Alfred wants me that badly…”
“Yeah!” Aubrey let out a yelp, and abruptly grabbed Kevin by the shoulders and gave him a good shake. “Let’s go tell him; he’ll be so happy, he’ll probably kiss you.”
Kevin sighed. Alfred was all right, he supposed, but he wouldn’t have been Kevin’s first choice…
By noon the next day, the roster for this year’s Ravenclaw Quidditch Team was posted in the Common Room. Outside the Great Hall, Jane caught Ludo and his mates on their way to lunch. Ludo’s blue eyes lit up the moment he saw her, and he grinned eagerly in response to her smile. “You made it!” he deduced.
“You got lucky,” she informed him, unable to suppress her beaming smile. “I’m starting at Chaser.”
“Ha, you chaps!” he gloated over Dugald and Gordon. “That’s a Galleon and five Sickles you owe me!”
He was offering his open palm to them when Jane planted her fists on her hips and huffed, “Is that all you have to say to this!” Ludo looked startled by her outburst, and she went on. “No ‘congratulations, Jane,’ or ‘good for you, Jane’…?” she griped.
“Ha!” He laughed out loud at the look on her face, then declared, “Good for you, Jane!” And before she could protest, Ludo lunged at her and boosted her off the ground in a bear hug. “I knew you’d make it!”
“Aa!” Jane slapped at his shoulders as he swung her in a circle, “put me down, you dolt!” Gordon and Dugald were laughing at them, and she should have been angry, but for some dumb reason she couldn’t stop smiling.
THE END
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