One Of A Kind ||A Fred Weasley Fanfiction||

28. Gryffindor VS Slytherin

"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry -" Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened.

"Hermione Jean Granger... Who would have thought you'd be so brave?" You and Ginny chuckled.

"Oh shut up!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Let's just go down to the Quidditch pitch and we'll talk about that on the way." Said Ginny, intertwining your arm with hers.

The frosty grass crunched under your feet as you hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes.

The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. A roar of sound greeted them in which you could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles. The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crownshaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built, with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters’ bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head.

"Captains, shake hands," ordered the referee Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. You could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina’s fingers, though she did not wince. "Mount your brooms…"
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.
The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ron streak off towards the goal hoops. Harry zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.

"And it’s Johnson - Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I’ve been saying it for years but she still won’t go out with me -"

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

"- just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest - and she’s ducked Warrington, she’s passed Montague, she’s — ouch - been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe… Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and - nice Bludger there from George Weasley,
that’s a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet’s away -"

Lee's commentary rang through the stadium and you listened as hard as you could whilst trying to stay focused to the players. You saw Fred sending a bludger to Draco, only for it to miss. The frustration has built up inside of Fred and the game had JUST started.

"- dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger - close call, Alicia - and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what’s that they’re singing?" And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the
Slytherin section of the stands:

"Weasley cannot save a thing, He cannot block a single ring, That’s why Slytherins all sing: Weasley is our King."
"Weasley was born in a bin He always lets the Quaffle in Weasley will make sure we win Weasley is our King."

"—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as you swerved, your insides boiling at what you had just heard, you knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she’s got just the Keeper to beat! - SHE SHOOTS - SHE - aaaah…" Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.